


All the Ashes in Our Wake

by slamncram (GettheSalt)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Detective Work, Journalism, M/M, Mentions of Melinda May - Freeform, Mentions of Phil Coulson - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-24 16:05:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 97,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8378626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettheSalt/pseuds/slamncram
Summary: When freelance journalist Leo Fitz receives a message that a source for his latest story wants to meet up to talk, the last thing he expects to find is a dead body. It quickly becomes obvious that it was no accident that he was the one found at the scene. Forcing his help on homicide detective Grant Ward, the pair begin to unravel a mystery more sinister and complicated than either could have predicted.With casualties piling up, and the threat of more bodies to be found, will Leo be able to help crack the case? Or will the dark secret following him around make him the next person on a twisted killer's list?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2016 Marvel Universe Big Bang. Art was done by AndLatitude on tumblr and can be found [here](http://andlatitude.tumblr.com/post/152353101809/my-art-for-slamncram-s-marvel-bang-an-agents-of).

There were a few things that Leo Fitz knew for certain.

One, was that it was way too difficult to make a dollar in this damn town. The fact was that the population was so huge, and the jobs in his field – the one he was trained for, engineering – were so scarce, that applying to openings was never a surefire way to get an interview, let alone hired. Making ends meet was important. Even if his apartment was a small bachelor one, the rent still needed to get paid. In order to pay rent, that meant he had to make money, Making money meant he had to work. Working meant a job, and while he'd never considered himself a journalist, he was good at it. Especially the investigative kind. He was curious – or nosy, as his best friend, Jemma Simmons, sometimes put it – so it came naturally to him. The hunt for the truth, and making sure it was out there where the public could consume it, was a driving force behind his journalism. He didn't have a steady post, but almost all the local papers paid handsomely for him to write, or investigate for them.

It wasn't like he was starving. But he wasn't rolling in money either.

It was way too difficult to make a steady dollar in this damn town.

The second thing that Leo knew was no where near as deep and insightful as the first thing he knew, but looking at himself in the mirror over Jemma's bathroom sink, it was just as obvious.

He may have had one too many vodka coolers.

That was all right, though. Or, it would have been, if it wasn't for the fact that Leo needed to sober up, and fast. Normally, he wouldn't give a damn about a message coming through on his phone at a time like this. He still shouldn't, anyway. It was Jemma's party, and he _was_ having a good time. The problem was, the message that had come through on his phone just couldn't wait.

Leo had made a name for himself with the investigative journalism that he did. The story he was currently following, if it panned out, would expose city councilors who were engaged in under the table deals with a few of the more unsavoury organizations in the city. The issue was, like with most scandals to that effect, getting concrete evidence was hard. People were cagey, and when they weren't cagey, they were very, very good at being sneaky. They hid their trails well. That's why this message that he'd gotten was important enough that Leo was willing to force himself to sober up, and leave the party.

Glancing at his phone screen again, Leo confirmed what he'd already read a half dozen times.

 

> _Have lead re: councilor Quinn. Source willing to meet, 1 AM,_   
>  _113-7 Terrace Blvd. Building left unlocked for you. Will only_   
>  _offer this once. - d_

 

 

That was the exact kind of thing he couldn't ignore. Quinn was one of the more shady councilors, whose every day work was above board enough that he was able to keep himself looking squeaky clean. Leo had been agonizing over how to find dirt on him, and, had nothing panned out by the end of the week, he was going to give up and focus on the others instead.

Thankfully for him, Friday night at 11:37PM, something was finally panning out.

He just needed to get sober enough to act on it.

“Leo? Are you all right...?”

Jemma's concerned tone was so blatant that he could see the expression on her face, even through the door. Eyebrows knitted in confusion, corners of her mouth downturned in concern. Jemma had never once denied, that of all their friends, she was the one who would be saddled with the term 'mom friend'. She was just that way, and Leo wouldn't change her for the world.

Opening the bathroom door, he smiled at her, noticing the way she seemed to search his face, looking for upset or sickness. “I'm all right. Was trying to just – just talk myself into, uh, being a bit more sober.”

Jemma's eyes narrowed, and she stepped into his space, very obviously smelling the alcohol on him. She, herself, was far from sober, but that didn't seem to stop her. “Why would you need to do that? Something going on? I'm not letting you drive away from here, Leopold Fitz, even if someone _does_ lend you their--”

“--Jemma.” Leo cut in. “I'm fine. I'm not going to drive anywhere. I need to use the subway. It's probably still running, yeah?”

Jemma's narrowed eyes turned back to concern and she moved out of the way, letting him out of the bathroom. Another one of the partygoers squeezed past them, whispering a 'sorry, gotta go' as he did. Jemma waited until the door closed, leaving them in the relative half-light of the hallway, before she crossed her arms and spoke. “Exactly why do you need to use the subway? You know you're welcome to stay here, tonight.”

He always was. That was the way it had been, since they were kids. Leo's mum had worked two jobs to support them after his dad had up and left them, and Leo had spent more than a few nights at the Simmons' household. That hadn't changed when they had gotten older. Where other friendships drifted apart, theirs had stayed close, close enough that Leo, tipsy from vodka coolers, or beer, or whatever was left out on the counter if Jemma was having a party, always had a place to sleep. If it wasn't the couch, it was the other side of Jemma's bed.

For some people, that might have seemed like it was pushing it. For Leo and Jemma, it was just something that they'd never seen issue with. That, and they saw each other as sexless siblings. It helped when it came to sharing a bed.

“I know that. I just...” Leo held up his phone, waving it back and forth in his hand. “I've got a lead, and it expires at 1AM. You know what that means, Jem.”

Jemma sighed, but she didn't argue. She did know what it meant. Earlier tonight, before people had arrived for the party celebrating Jemma's new promotion – and only a couple months into her new job, too – Leo had been complaining about the lack of leads, loudly, while he helped her fill buckets and coolers with ice. “All right. But be smart about it? And let me know when you get to the tube, and there, and when you're coming back.”

Leo grinned, heading for the closet, and his coat. He'd need it; it was raining, but no amount of rain was going to keep him from this breakthrough. “Yes, mum. Do you want me to turn on the GPS on my phone, too, so you can track me on my trip?”

“Honestly, don't be an arse.” Jemma shot back, but she was smiling. “You know I'm going to post that picture of you with the beer hat, because you're ducking out early.”

“You were going to post it anyway.”

Jemma winked as Leo opened her apartment door. “You didn't know that for sure.”

 

 

 

If Leo had known exactly _how_ hard it was raining, he might have begged and pleaded with the person on the other end to reschedule the meeting to a time when the heavens hadn't opened up over the city. He hadn't known, though, and he'd been soaked by the time he'd gotten to the subway stop by Jemma's. He'd had a little time to dry off on the train, hurtling towards the Terrace Boulevard station. Water had been rolling off his jacket onto the seat and floor, and sliding down his neck from his hair, under the collar of his shirt.

By the time he made it to 113 Terrace Boulevard, he was doubting whether he would ever feel comfortable again. His jacket did a lot to keep the rain from soaking through to his skin, but it did nothing to stop it soaking his jeans or hair. Both were clinging to him, his jeans fairly uncomfortable, tight to his thighs and ankles, as he came up to the building.

Someone was coming down the short set of stairs that led up to the main door as he did. A man, Leo guessed, by the spread of his shoulders, and his gait. He had his collar turned up against the rain and, unlike Leo, seemed to have had the foresight to wear a hat. The wide brim was keeping his face shielded from the rain, and from Leo's eyes, but even if Leo had been interested in his face, he would have had a hard time making it out in the rain. The stranger turned left when he hit the sidewalk, his back facing Leo as he walked away briskly through the downpour.

Leo had already looked away, heading up the stairs toward the door, or he might have noticed the way the stranger slowed and looked back at him, waiting until he went inside to continue on his way.

“Hello?”

The building seemed to be an office space for lease. There were a few units, Leo could see, once he was inside. The building was two levels, and with three units on the ground floor, he could only assume that unit 7 would be up the wide wooden staircase on his left. The building had an old charm to it, and whoever ended up leasing the offices would benefit from that. Right now, Leo was more focused on getting up to unit 7 without his sneakers slipping on the polished wood finish of the stairs. Again, if he'd known how hard it had been raining, he would have worked hard to reschedule this meeting to another night.

That wasn't the only reason anymore, though.

“Hello?” Leo tried again, as he ascended the last of the stairs onto the landing of the top floor. Again, no one answered him. The alcohol in his system made his stomach churn, working in perfect partnership with his nerves.

Leo was generally cautious. He didn't tend to go down back alleys alone at night, and he didn't make a practice of associating with dangerous people. That was how good journalists got to be dead journalists. If a situation seemed bad, his instincts were usually good. He'd ducked out of dangerous meetings before, thanks to those self preservation instincts. When he'd first arrived at the building, he had thought it odd that the lights were all out. The source had told him that the door would be unlocked, and because this was a property for lease, perhaps it had been best that they not leave all lights blazing, so as not to arouse suspicion and have their meeting interrupted. That was what Leo told himself while he walked along the corridor towards unit 7, the way lit only by the numerous windows that let in the glow of the streetlamps and the moon in the sky.

It was odd, though, that no one was answering him. If there was someone here, they should have said something, by now. It was 1:01AM, by what Leo's phone screen said. His source had better not be late. This place was creepy enough without having to worry about being startled by someone arriving suddenly.

It was comforting to see that the door to what Leo assumed was unit 7 was slightly open and, beyond it, he could see the warm glow of a lamp. Maybe his source just didn't want to call out, in case it wasn't him who was wandering around, shouting. With more confidence in his step, Leo headed towards the door, pushing it open with one hand, holding the other up in a gesture of peace.

“Um, hello? It's Leo Fitz, the journalist? I got a message earlier, and--”

Leo cut himself off with a strangled noise somewhere between a retch and a whimper, his eyes stuck on the figure lying on the floor not two feet away from him. The door had caught against the man's leg, and stopped moving easily, which had drawn Leo's attention down.

He sorely, sorely wished he'd stayed at Jemma's.

He hadn't seen the man even once before in his life. At least, he was fairly sure of it. He was of sturdy build, tanned skin and a bald head, probably premature and helped along by a very close shave on trips to the barber. He was, Leo guessed, taller than himself, when standing, not that he would be standing anymore, and perhaps most identifying of all, flipped open on his chest was a police badge.

A dead cop wasn't something Leo had expected to come across tonight, nor had he ever wanted to. That wasn't what had stopped the words in his throat, though.

That had been the blood.

There was so much of it, encircling the man's head in a twisted halo. It was on his hands, and the front of his shirt, and all over his face. Thick trails were running out of his ears, down his neck and the back of his head. Others were leading down from his nostils, over his bloodied mouth, and more were running from the corners of his eyes. Eyes that were bloodied, the vessels ruptured by something. Something terrible.

And add to all that, there was a _dent_ in the man's forehead. Not the kind of dent that comes from childhood injuries, a scare and nothing more.

No, this was a crushed, black and blue and purple divot in the man's skull. It had to be what had made him drop, here, on the floor. Leo couldn't imagine that he'd kept going, bleeding from his eyes, nose and ears, with that dent in his skull.

Leo wasn't imagining much, though. He could feel himself trembling, standing in the doorway, looking down at this dead man. Why was he here? Had he been Leo's source? Why had someone wanted him to see this? What possible story could this tell that Leo should have to see it like _this_?

The questions were spinning around in his head, disjointed, jumping from one to the other, frantic and shaken, while he tried to make his hands work. He needed to call the police. The police needed to get here, and now. He could explain his presence easily, and he had a duty, as a citizen. He needed... He had to...

His hands were shaking so badly that on his first attempt to unlock his phone, it slipped between his fingers, bouncing on the carpet, and landing half in, half out of the pool of blood slowly forming around the officer.

“Fuck. Fuckfuck _fuck_. Dammit.”

Leo crouched down, reaching for the phone. He'd make the call on speaker if he had to. He needed to call the police.

Downstairs, there was a sound like a door exploding off the hinges, and Leo jumped, spinning and backing away without thinking. His heel caught against the dead man's hip and he toppled over, landing hard on his back on the floor. It left him gasping for breath while he scrambled away across the carpet, not being quiet in the least, while multiple pairs of foot thundered up the same wooden stairs he'd ascended what already felt like hours ago.

The next thing he knew, bright lights were shining in his eyes, making him squint and hold his hands up in front of his face, warding the lights off. Dimly, he thought he made out the barrel of a gun over the orb of the flashlight's mouth. It had to be. That meant that he needn't have tried calling.

“Police!”

“Hands up!”

“Police!”

“Hands up, police!”

Leo held his hands higher, staring at the opposite wall, away from the flashlight. The officers were moving into the room, now, careful over the body. Leo thought he heard one of them say 'is that Sitwell? The fuck happened to his face?' but he wasn't sure. He was too busy noticing the other details in the room.

The blood splatter on the small table by the door. The impact marks where the officer – Sitwell – must have bashed his forehead. The lamp, fallen over on its side. The bulb was pressed against the shade, and vaguely, Leo thought he heard himself say something about that being a fire hazard. He wasn't sure. His eyes were tracking the spray of blood on the wall, and the carpet. Right down to a small metallic device, sitting on the floor not far from the toe of his right sneaker.

The sight of it made his stomach turn all over again. His willpower was no match for the cocktail of vodka coolers, cheap beer, greasy finger food, shock, horror, and revulsion that was coursing through his body. He leaned to the side, quickly, emptying his stomach on the carpet. He stayed turned that way, it being a much better sight, until he saw the booted feet in front of him, and one of the officers spoke.

“You're going to have to come to the station.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

This was not how Leo had intended to spend his Friday night, and, had Jemma known that this was going to be where he ended up, he suspected she would not have let him go. It had been hours since he'd promised her that he would be back to crash at her place for the night. More than enough time for the alcohol to wear off, that was for sure. Leo suspected that had happened the second he had laid eyes on the dead officer. The alcohol had been burned away by the horror and disgust he'd felt at the scene.

At least they had given him the chance to phone her. He'd done that from a phone at an officer's desk, while they'd been preparing a room for him to be questioned in. Jemma had been less than calm about the entire situation, and offered to come down to the station, but Leo had begged her not to. He would call when he needed to be picked up – thankfully it was Saturday the next day, and Jemma wouldn't have to be at work – or just take a cab. He would be fine, he assured her. He'd simply stumbled upon the scene, and the police wanted to question him, which wasn't the whole truth, but was better than outright lying to her.

As for the questioning, Leo wasn't sure where to begin.

He knew, logically, that the questioner – detective? - would take control of the situation and guide him into a chronological retelling of how he'd ended up at the scene of the crime. It didn't do much to calm his shaking hands, or churning stomach. He'd emptied anything he'd had to give onto the carpet of 113-7 Terrace Boulevard, but his stomach was angling for another performance that just wasn't in the cards. All it succeeded in doing was make him uncomfortable, on top of being nervous, while he sat alone in the room they'd brought him to once he'd finished his call with Jemma.

It was a small room, with a hanging light, flanked by two fluorescent bulbs. The one on the left kept giving off a weak flicker every 53 seconds. Leo had counted, after he'd finished examining the rest of the room, from his vantage point on a wooden chair with short, thin arms. There was a chair identical to it across the table, and a third in the corner furthest from Leo. Against that wall there was a long, squat, blacked out window. Leo didn't need to be a genius to know what that was. One way glass. In the center of the table, which was some metal and wood monstrosity, there was a steel loop, presumably for the officers to cuff suspects to.

About the room, Leo knew two things relating to himself. One, there was a chance that there were officers, or detectives, on the other side of that glass, watching him right now. He wasn't giving them much of a show. He switched between tapping his fingers on the table to keep his hands busy, examining his nails and removing stray threads from the cuffs of his shirt for the same reason, and glancing over his shoulder at the door. There was a fogged glass window in it, obscuring his view of the hallway beyond. Figures would pass from time to time, and he could hear voices, but no one had come through it since he'd been left here.

The second thing that he knew about the room was that the loop in the center of the table was, thankfully, not going to be used for him. Not unless the police had suitable reason to suspect that he had anything to do with what had happened to the officer back at the office space.

The thought of that body, with its bruising and the halo of blood, set Leo's stomach on a renewed bout of churning. If there were officers watching him, they would see his blank expression turn into a hard grimace while he pressed a hand against his gut. He hadn't gone into shock yet, so hopefully he wouldn't. The trembling in his hands felt like it was fading. It was certainly better than it had been when they'd ushered him into the back of a waiting police cruiser. Time was passing, and with every quarter hour he was feeling further and further from what he'd seen. It felt like days ago that he'd wandered into unit 7 and been confronted by that sight.

It was hard to believe it had only been three hours, give or take. Especially when those three hours had only been filled with a trip to the station, a phone call to Jemma, and deposit into this room to wait.

It was after 4 in the morning. Leo should feel tired, but he didn't. He felt nothing but mild panic, and fear, and the shock he was holding at bay.

The door opened with a solid-sounding click, and Leo started in his seat, straightening up. His hands brushed off the table top, removing the small cluster of loose threads he'd pulled from his shirt. Turning, he looked over his shoulder at the person coming into the room.

He wasn't any of the officers that had picked Leo up, that Leo knew. He had something of a photographic memory, and he'd committed those faces to his personal databank, even though it had not been something he was consciously aware of doing. He had a good mind for faces, and this was not one he'd seen before. He felt like he would remember this one.

The man was tall, definitely over six feet at full height, Leo would guess, though his head was bowed slightly, looking at the files in his hands while he closed the door behind him, and moved around the table. His hair was dark, dark brown, almost black in the harsh light, and it was styled almost haphazardly, like he'd done it straight out of bed and not bothered to be sure it looked professional. Leo supposed there was a chance that the man had done exactly that, given the nature of why they were there. His cheeks and jaw were dusted with stubble, framing his cheekbones in a way that wouldn't be out of place in a fashion magazine, but that, like his hair, gave away that he may have been summoned straight from home to the station to help out with Leo and this situation.

In comparison to the other man, Leo felt almost small. He was of average height and build, himself, with ash blonde hair that got curly when he let it grow too long, and blue eyes that Jemma always said he'd been blessed to have. Across from this man, though, he felt terribly average and, in some ways, intimidated.

Leo suspected many people felt that way around this man. He was big, muscular and solid, and he commanded the respect of the room, even if Leo was the only one in it.

The other chair made a faint scuffing noise when the man dragged it across the floor, but he did not sit. Instead, he set the files down on the table between them, and rubbed his jaw, before putting his hands in his pockets. Leo noticed that he was wearing a dark blue canvas jacket over a black shirt, and jeans. Clipped to his belt, just to the right of his buckle, was a badge.

_Detective G. Ward_.

Leo committed that to memory, and met the man's gaze, ready to give his answers and go. Detective Ward didn't seem ready to proceed in that fashion yet, and continued to watch Leo, looking him over and taking him in.

_Deciding whether or not I was capable of doing that_.

Leo resisted the urge to shake his head, meeting the detective's eyes and then looking back at his own hands, waiting this out. The other could only look at him for so long before he either had to say something, or leave. Leo knew his own innocence.

_For the most part_.

Continuing to resist the urge to shake his head, Leo picked up one of the threads that hadn't made it to the floor, pulling it through the press of his thumb and forefinger with the pair of the opposite hand. He could wait out this detective all night. He would more than likely eventually fall asleep, but he could wait him out.

It turned out that he didn't need to wait long. Just as Leo was thinking about the pros and cons of sleeping in this chair, the detective spoke up.

“Mr. Fitz, right?”

Leo looked up, meeting his eyes and nodding. “That would be me.”

Detective Ward nodded, one of his fingers skimming the page open on the table in front of him. “84 Vaughn St. Apartment 3B?”

“That's correct.”

Another nod from the detective. “And what is it that you do for a living, Mr. Fitz?

Leo swallowed, ignoring the way his heart was thudding in his chest. It was a simple question, with a simple answer. It would be confirmed by the police contacting literally any publication in the city, once the offices opened at 6. “I'm a freelance investigative journalist.”

“And does that pay well?”

Leo blinked, looking up at the detective. The only response he got was a raise of the man's eyebrows, a silent ' _go on_ ' if Leo had ever seen one. “It pays enough. I can pay my bills, and rent, and afford to go out.”

Ward nodded, and it was then that he took the seat across from Leo, pulling it up to the table and folding his hands on top of it. Once again, he looked Leo over, as though he might be able to see through him, see was he was hiding. It wasn't something that Leo particularly liked, or felt comfortable with, but maintaining that he'd done nothing more than _find_ the body was the key here.

After all, that _was_ all he'd had to do with this.

“My name's Detective Grant Ward. I'm the detective that's been called in to investigate this homicide, and you, as of right now, are my only living witness. You understand, I assume, how serious this investigation is?”

Leo frowned. “I would think that _any_ homicide would be treated as serious, detective.”

He should have known better than to sass the one man who had the power to either drag out or expedite his freedom from this room and this station. Common sense kicked in too late, though, and Leo had no choice but to keep his expression frozen on his face, hoping that the man across from him didn't have a short fuse.

“You have a good point.” Ward allowed, his voice tight with what Leo assumed was annoyance. “But it is very, very rare that homicide investigations have a member of the force as their victim. At least, in this city. This is, in fact, the first, but I'm sure once you're out of here, you would have figured that out on your own.”

Leo kept his face blank. He'd wondered if he would encounter any comments like that. Being a known journalist – through his own admission – usually led to that sort of thing.

“Now, you're my only witness, Mr. Fitz, and I'm sure you've figured out, by the fact that we haven't cuffed or booked you, that we don't have reason to believe that you committed the crime at 113-7 Terrace Boulevard.”

“Well, that's bloody good, because I _didn't_.” Fitz cut in, hotly. “I would never even begin to know how depraved, and disgusting, and--”

“--Mr. Fitz.”

Leo shut his mouth.

“What I said was that we don't have reason to believe that you were the one who killed Sergeant Sitwell, but we are _very_ interested in exactly why it was that you were at that building tonight, so late, in the rain, and, from what I've been told, a little bit intoxicated.”

Leo bristled at the detective's words. He knew how suspect it looked that he'd been the one to find the body. He hadn't ever known this Sergeant Sitwell, certainly not enough to have guessed him to be a source on city council corruption. The fact that this detective was insinuating that he might have been linked to the murder, however, when Leo knew for concrete fact that he wasn't, at least, not _directly_ , it was offensive.

“You have my phone, don't you?”

Detective Ward's eyebrows raised again.

“My phone.” Leo repeated. “It fell, when I was trying to call 911. It was... Where it fell, it wasn't clean, so they took my phone into custody.”

“I fail to see what this has to do with the interests I expressed.”

Unless Leo was very, very mistaken, he could have sworn he saw a hint of amusement in Ward's brown eyes. Was it possible that there were colleagues listening in, watching, through the window, wearing much more obvious expressions of amusement? Was Leo's distress entertaining them?

“Okay. All right.” Leo took a breath. It wouldn't pay to get worked up, here. He felt cagey and scared and he was lashing out, but this detective wasn't the right target. Things like that would get Leo into more trouble than he could possible deal with, at least right now. “I'm a journalist.”

“So you said.” The detective replied, drily. “Don't worry, Mr. Fitz. Everyone here is _very_ aware of the work that you do.”

It was then that Leo remembered the exposé he'd done a year or so ago, on the police force in the city. It hadn't been all that terrible, merely pointing out the expenditures for lack of results when it came to things like traffic violations. Still, it clearly hadn't made him very popular with the police. He was, he would readily admit, always sniffing around, looking for a story. This was his livelihood, and if he didn't deliver, he didn't eat. When stories were slow, he might have to rely on a second job, and that stretched him to his limit. He had to do what it took to tell a story, to live.

Remembering that, however, explained more of the detective's attitude towards him. Not only had Leo been present at a crime scene, but that crime scene was one of a dead cop, and Leo was known for being ruthless in searching out stories.

“I didn't – What happened there wasn't – I'm -” Leo took another breath. He needed to proceed calmly. There was no reason to give them license to look into him any further. “I'm researching a story right now regarding a few city councilors. I was texted – and you'll see the message on my phone – telling me that a source was willing to meet me at that address at 1AM, and that the offer would expire after tonight.”

The detective wasn't making any notes, but for the first time, Leo noticed the thin voice recorder set on the table, next to the folders.

“I had been at my friend Jemma's – that's Jemma Simmons – party when I got the message. She's the one I called when I got here, you can confirm that with the stocky bloke at the third desk from the door in the bullpen, on the right.” Leo licked his lip, continuing. “I told her I would be back, just going to check this out. I'd been hitting walls on research and I needed the breakthrough.”

“Of course.”

Leo detected a patronizing note in Ward's voice, but willed himself to ignore it.

“I took the subway from her place – she lives on Bell Court. Number 6, apartment 613. It was raining pretty hard, so I hurried, got to the building as fast as I could. I'd been told it would be unlocked, which it was, but all the lights were out.”

“And,” Ward started. “You didn't find that suspicious? Not even a little?”

Leo took a breath to reply, and paused. His answer was going to sound imbecilic, but it was the truth. “I thought the source didn't want to attract attention from outside. The place is for lease, no one should be there. If the light were on, maybe someone in the area would find it weird and call the police to investigate.”

That had been what happened, Leo realized, in the end. The police had arrived either way. He hadn't succeeded in dialing 911, but they had come all the same. Maybe someone had seen him and the other man entering and leaving the premises and thought it odd. That didn't explain the way the police had come into the building, though, and Leo frowned, thinking that over.

They had come in like they knew someone had been killed there, or was possibly in danger. The revelation struck Leo like a match, and he looked up and across the table at the detective, feeling buoyed by his understanding of the situation. They couldn't suspect him. There were CCTV cameras on Terrace. If any of them were close enough, they would at least see him approaching the building, the only time he had, and have to cross reference it against the time the call they had gotten had come in.

That was operating on the assumption that there had, absolutely, been a call, but Leo couldn't see how there could not have been. Armed with that knowledge, the rest of the story felt like it came easier. He wasn't having to push it out and make it sound as innocent as possible now. The detective had to know he was innocent. He was just fishing for clues.

Clues that Leo felt he didn't have to give.

“All right.” Ward said, shifting in his seat slightly. “So, you didn't think the lights being off were weird. What happened then?”

“Well.” Leo said, folding his own hands on the table. Keeping them like this made it easier to hide the tremor, though Leo could feel it easing, now that he knew he was in the clear. It didn't help the image that was stark in his memory, but at least he knew they couldn't try and pin this on him without him giving up information that he himself wasn't even clear on. “I went upstairs. The message said I would meet my source in unit 7, and since there were only 3 units on the ground floor, it made sense that it would be upstairs. I went up, and called hello a few times, and no one answered.”

“You still didn't think that was weird?”

Leo had somewhat less patience for the detective's tone, now. “No. Sources can be mistrusting and jumpy. I figured he wasn't going to announce himself until he was sure it was me, and not a squatter or something.” The corners of Ward's mouth turned in a frown and Leo bristled. “Anyway. I saw the light in unit 7 – which, before you asked, didn't have windows, because it's an inside unit. The upper level had 8 units, I saw, 4 on the walls and 4 in the center. I went to push the door open and it got... It was...” Leo waved his hand, unable to find the word.

“You hit Sergeant Sitwell.”

“His _body_.” Leo said, clearly. “He was dead.”

Ward closed one of the folders and slid it aside, opening the other. He looked over the top page as he did, before looking up at Leo.

“Yes, he was dead. And then?”

Breathing out, slow, Leo steeled himself to continue. To finish. “I got my phone out to call 911, but my hands were shaking so badly, I dropped it.” In blood. “I went to pick it up, and then the police got there. Scared the shit out of me. I mean, I was already terrified. I'd been called to this place to meet a source and I found a brutally murdered cop, and then there was all kinds of noise. I...” Leo looked down. Somehow, his next words felt disrespectful to the slain officer. “I tripped over the body.” His eyes flicked up, gauging Ward's reaction, but his stone-faced expression hadn't changed. “And moved back. That's where the officers found me.”

“And you threw up.”

“Have you seen the body, detective?” Leo asked with sudden venom. “You would throw up, too.” Leo knew that there was little chance of that. If Ward was worth his salt as a homicide detective, he wouldn't lose his lunch over a murder scene. Sleep, maybe. But lunch? Definitely not.

Ward ignored that, going on. He pulled a photo loose of the folder and turned it, sliding it across the table so Leo could see it clearly. “There was a device found at the scene. It's suspected to be the murder weapon, whatever it was that caused Sitwell to bleed like he did.”

Leo frowned. He wasn't entirely sure that the bleeding hadn't been caused by Sitwell having his head rammed into the side of the table over and over, but, looking at the device in the photo, Leo knew that was very possibly not the case.

“The officers said it was by your foot when then arrived. Right foot, I believe... Yes, right foot.” Ward looked up again from consulting the report in front of him. “You know, you do have an easily discovered history, Mr. Fitz.”

Leo swallowed. “I don't hide anything. There's little point.”

“You have a degree in engineering.”

Leo nodded. “Kind of embarrassing that I'm not using that instead of chasing councilors around the city.” He said, lightly, picking at his cuff, again. It was a sore spot, for him. An amazing degree, genius level intellect, yet he was stuck in a city where he couldn't put either to true use.

“Weapons engineering, it said. You specialized in that. Had aspirations, did we?”

Leo narrowed his eyes, looking across the table. It was very possible that the detective was fishing again, but Leo didn't like his tone. It pressed two distinct buttons that he didn't like pushed. The biggest was that he'd had aspirations and fallen short on them. The other, he didn't care to think about right now, especially in light of this photo being placed in front of him.

“I did. But, if you didn't notice, we do not exactly live in a place where I can just walk into a facility and start designing better grade military weaponry.”

Ward seemed to ignore his outburst, and tapped the page. “What do you make of this?”

If Leo lied, here, he would be only be making himself look bad. Not only that, but, given his history of education, if he couldn't identify the weapon's category, they would either suspect him of stupidity, or lying. Neither was preferable and, as the only witness, it seemed only prudent that he help as much as he could. So long as he was careful, it wasn't going to come back on him.

“It _looks_ to be a sonic weapon. Works on a frequency painful to human beings. Clearly, in the long run, it might be able to rupture blood vessels and cause severe... Cause severe cranial bleeds.”

Seeming satisfied with his answer, the detective pulled the photo back across the table. “We suspected as much. So helpful to have someone with your background confirm it.”

Leo sighed. As much as he was relieved, he was becoming tired, not only in body, but of the patronizing tone. It was clear, now, that they didn't suspect him. There was no need for the detective to continue in that tone, unless it was just to brush him the wrong way. Not the most professional, but after tonight, Leo didn't think he would be pursuing stories about the force unless they had a viable, good reason behind them.

His sigh did not go unnoticed, and Ward seemed to decide he'd heard enough.

“Is there anything else you wanted to tell us?”

Leo shook his head. “No. I've told you how my evening went, and why I was there.”

Closing up the second folder, Ward glanced across at him. “Your friend Jemma has inadvertently proven that you were, in fact, at her apartment for a party. There were a few photos of you posted to both Facebook and Instagram that have made it evident we should be glad you used public transit rather than driving yourself.”

“I don't own a car.” Leo answered, snapping to his own defense. It was obvious what Detective Grant Ward thought of him by the set of his expression. Not only did he think he was some kind of lowlife, with the way he chased after stories, he clearly thought he was a drunkard and a moron, based off the pictures they had found.

“CCTV and surveillance at the stations and on the train also confirm what times you entered, exit and rode. Your alibi checks out, and your story helps us at least piece together why you were there. Your phone was seized as evidence. You'll be able to retrieve that in 5 to 7 business days.”

Leo's jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“You dropped it in Sitwell's blood. Do you _really_ want it back that badly?”

Leo pursed his lips, forcing down his anger. “No, but I have data on there that is _private_. I don't particularly want it being gone through by the police. You have to obtain a warrant.”

“Well, we were going to do that, and we may still, but the phone isn't going to offer us much.” There was something Ward wasn't telling him, here, and Leo understood why not, but the journalist in him was bursting with curiosity. “We needed to swab it for blood. It'll be cleaned when you get it back – physically, not of data.” He said, quickly, seeing Leo open his mouth to protest. “No biological material on it. But we're noting the serial number, make, model, manufacture date and IMEI of the unit, should we need it in the future. At which point, yes, we will obtain a warrant.”

“And why can't I have it back _now_?”

“Formality.” Ward answered.

Leo got the sense he was getting more pleasure out of this than he strictly should.

“You can call for a cab or a friend to pick you up from the public phone. Call this number,” He slid a card across the table to Leo. “To inquire about the status of _your_ phone.”

“I need my phone for work.”

Ward stared at him coolly. “Did you know that it's very easy for us to determine that you have two phone lines? One under Verizon and one under AT&T?”

Leo stayed quiet.

“This one was the one linked to your Verizon account. Very basic, that one. Just messages and calling. Android, Samsung S4. Just meets the average needs. Very nice rate on it, too. Your AT&T phone is an iPhone 6S, 128 gigs. It's in your inside jacket pocket.” Ward's eyes showed the barest hint of victory, even while his mouth didn't smile, nor frown. “I suspect the S4 is just for your less than public contacts, yes? The ones that don't want to be named?”

When Leo didn't answer, Ward hummed and nodded.

“That's what I thought. Sergeant Johnson will be in to escort you out. Do not leave the city, Mr. Fitz. We may be in touch.”

Leo waited until he had left the room to turn back around. He couldn't betray anything on his face, but he knew, in a bone deep way, that Grant Ward had known he was bluffing, and couldn't have just let him off nicely. The guy had to ream him out for hiding a second phone in the jacket they'd taken from him when he'd arrived at the station, in front of colleagues who were more than likely now laughing on the other side of that glass.

On the upside, he was leaving, they didn't suspect him of anything, and they weren't detaining him any longer. That was a large, shining positive, and Leo needed to focus on that. He'd get his second phone back in a few days and eventually he'd get the image of Sergeant Sitwell out of his head and be able to sleep without nightmares.

Sergeant Johnson was a woman who seemed around his age, with a chipper but sardonic attitude. Her chestnut hair was pinned back in a bun at the back of her head, and her uniform was the standard blues, unlike what the detective had worn. She saw him to the front lobby, without the surly attitude that Ward had shown. It was a relief.

“You have a good night, Mr. Fitz.” She said when she left him in the lobby. “And if you remember anything, a detail at the scene, any other calls, any people you saw, please let us know.” Holding out two fingers, she handed him a card. It matched the design of the one Detective Ward had given him, but this had his name, rank and contact information on it, rather than the information for reclamation of evidence.

“I think Grant may have put one of those in your jacket already before giving it to me. He isn't very straightforward sometimes, thinks it's a better way to get people to come to him. Just in case he didn't.” She clicked her tongue and tapped the card. “There you are.”

“Thanks. Thanks, uh.”

“Sergeant Daisy Johnson.”

“Sergeant Johnson.” Leo answered. “Um. Have a good night?”

“You too.” She said, and disappeared back inside the precinct, leaving Leo to shrug his jacket on. As she'd suspected, when he reached his hand into his inside pocket for his phone, he found a card identical to the one she'd passed him. The only difference was the scrawl, in squat, flourished capital letters, that said ' _CALL IF YOU REMEMBER ANY DETAILS_ '.

Leo rolled his eyes and dropped the card back inside his jacket as he headed out the front doors of the station. He wouldn't be remembering any details to tell the detective. It was a very, very slim chance. Even so, he wouldn't want to talk to the gruff detective again unless he absolutely had to. He'd been nothing short of a dick, and Leo didn't need to subject himself to more of that.

It was still raining outside, and while it wasn't nearly as hard, it was still something that would be a nuisance. Leo didn't want to call a cab, or Jemma. He'd told her in a quick text message before exiting that he was going to head back to his own apartment to sleep and he'd call her later. If she had responded, he didn't know, but he needed the walk to clear his head enough so he _would_ be able to sleep. He turned his collar up against the rain, and walked down the stairs, stepping off to their right and heading off down the sidewalk.

The memory hit him hard enough to stop him in his tracks, and even though it was past 5 in the morning, and he'd been awake for 21 hours, witnessing a dead body in that time, he suddenly felt wide awake.

Wide awake and annoyed.

So much for not having to talk to Detective Grant Ward ever again.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“How the bloody hell did _you_ get caught up in something like this?”

Jemma's tone, let alone her words, was something that Leo felt on a very deep level. Incredulity, fear, shock, anger, and confusion. Those were all apt descriptors for what he was feeling right now, and yet, at the same time, they all felt far too small to sum up the cocktail inside him.

Jemma had shown up at his apartment somewhere around 10:30, and she had been perturbed but relieved to find him there. From the speech she'd given him once he finally shuffled out of bed, she had been on the edge of terrified about what might be going on with him, and though he'd sent her a message when he got home, saying ' _safe_ ', she had still had misgivings. That, Leo supposed, was fair. Given what he'd been through since he'd left her apartment the night before, it certainly wasn't out of place.

Jemma had given him time to sleep, and not woken him up when she'd left herself into the apartment with her spare key. She had, instead, busied herself poking around his kitchen, getting things together for a decent breakfast, and then made herself comfortable on the couch, and pulled up a documentary about Australian wildlife on Netflix. They were close enough that, for a few seconds when Leo rolled over and peered out of the alcove that served as his bedroom, he hadn't been surprised to see her there.

With the smell of bacon, however, everything had come rushing back. As much as his stomach hadn't felt confident about the idea of food, he and it both knew it was something that he needed, as had Jemma. And he'd been able to keep it down while he ate, sitting beside her on the couch in an old t-shirt and his boxers.

That had been around noon, and now it was nearly one-thirty. Leo was still sitting on the couch in the clothing he'd slept in, and Jemma was leaning against the opposite arm, one leg tucked under her, shaking her head. She'd left the house in a hurry that morning, Leo could tell. Her shoulder length brown hair was pulled back in a hasty ponytail, and she was wearing an old pair of jeans and a soft grey hooded sweatshirt that she'd had for years. There were circles under her eyes that he could see if he looked at her just right, and her voice was a little rough. Between the party, and coming here, she'd told him that she'd caught a little bit of sleep here and there, a few hours once he'd confirmed he was home. But, knowing her best friend had been set up to find a dead body hadn't left her with the easiest mind.

Leo didn't suppose he looked much better, but he was avoiding the bathroom mirror for as long as possible. He needed a shower, but that could wait.

When he'd gotten home this morning, he'd wanted to do something busy with his hands. It had been difficult enough to convince himself to keep walking away from the station once he'd remembered that he'd need to see Detective Ward again. It would probably have been better to have gone in, right away, and told the detective what he'd remembered, but the chance of being shut up in that room for hours, again, stopped him. Maybe that made him a coward, but Leo also knew a thing or two about how this was going to go. Chances were, the police already had a lead on the man he'd seen leaving the office building when he'd been arriving. They were fairly decent at their jobs, and Ward had been just arrogant enough to assure Leo that he had been successful in the past and there was no reason to assume he would not be, now.

His first instinct, upon getting home, had been cleaning his apartment. It wasn't much. A bachelor apartment that he tried to keep as clean as possible. There was the alcove where he'd put his bed, and the closet there where, with the help of storage containers and hanging shelves, he'd been able to stow his clothing, laundry basket, and a few other things. Those doors were open right now, displaying the overflowing basket of laundry he'd need to get to at some point. There was also a rather suspicious pair of jeans sticking out from under the bed that hinted at more discoveries to be found there. The bed was unmade, seeing as he'd just rolled out of it, but it fit with the rest of the apartment.

He'd forced himself to climb into bed, rather than set to cleaning up. His apartment was furnished in, largely, secondhand furniture, so it had a lived-in feel to it. Add the books everywhere, notepads, and sketchbooks on every surface, and it became, very quickly, the home of someone in writing, or the arts. Closer inspection of his sketchbooks would reveal those arts to be scientific, but Leo wasn't the entertaining kind. He rarely had people over, except for Jemma, and she'd been used to his chaos for some time now. His tablet was perched precariously on the arm of the couch where she was leaning, his laptop on the coffee table, on top of a Chinese take-out menu and an open notepad with incoherent scrawl across the pages. At some point when he'd come in, he'd tossed down both of Detective Grant Ward's business cards on it, so they stood out, crisp white against the black of the computer's lid.

The kitchen, really, was the only exception to his chaos, and that was only because he was meticulous about keeping out pests. There _were_ dishes in the sink, but it wasn't overflowing. The counters were clear, except for a few open bills. The stovetop was clean, and opening the fridge would find it orderly, if not exactly fully stocked.

Leo kept his environment in just such a way as he could understand it, and anyone worth their salt in his life could live with it. It felt comfortable, safe, and, most important, like home. For Leo, that was the most important thing. This wasn't just a place where he kept his stuff, this was his home, and his safe place.

It had been exactly what he'd needed the night before. Climbing into bed after flicking off the bathroom light, he'd been able to let his mind calm, and drift off to sleep. He was exhausted, and he was sure that had something to do with it, but his apartment, his space, had helped with that.

And now, here in his apartment, with Jemma, he felt like he could finally look at the situation he'd found himself in the night before in a more objective light.

The facts were these: someone had messaged Leo, from a blocked number, and told him where he could meet a source for his most recent story. That narrowed the playing field, somewhat, because there were few people who knew what Leo had been working on. That was how it went with the sensitive nature of his work. Unless it was a common interest story, he played his cards close to the vest.

Another fact of the situation was that the person who had messaged Leo not only knew what he was working on, so knew how to lure him, but, they'd lured him to a spot where they – presumably – had murdered a cop in cold blood. That was the simplest explanation that Leo had for what he'd stumbled upon. Cold blooded murder. There was no way Sergeant Sitwell, even if he had been suicidal, would wish such a horribly twisted death on himself.

“I don't know.” Leo answered Jemma, reaching up to rub a hand through his hair. He needed to shower soon, but there was something he needed to do before that. “Maybe it's because I'm a journalist, and a damn good one at that.” He didn't miss the small smile on Jemma's face at his show of self-confidence. He suspected she was happy to see it, after what he'd been through. It was a sign he wasn't broken by the scene he'd taken in. “They wanted to make sure what they did was seen by somebody who might not hesitate to tell the world. That, or they wanted to frame me, but they did a bloody shit job at that, didn't they?”

Jemma hummed, shifting in her seat. As she did, she reached back and retrieved Leo's tablet from where it was perched, stopping it from being in danger of falling. Setting it between them on the couch, she spoke. “They did, but I'm sure a large part of that was because you were at the party with me, and we were all posting photos. If those photos hadn't been up, you might still be at the station.”

She had a point. While there had been other factors that had made it evident that Leo was innocent of killing Sergeant Sitwell, the multiple witnesses and social media proof of his having been at a party were a large point in his favour. “You're not saying that you _think_ someone tried to _frame me_ for that murder, are you?”

Jemma looked up at Leo, and opened her mouth to reply. She closed it after a second, and looked back down, reaching out to play with the flap of Leo's tablet case. Avoiding the question. She definitely had suspicions, and, knowing that, Leo felt less sure of his theory that he'd been called in to be the one to tell the story.

It was extremely possible that someone had tried to frame him. There were pieces of evidence, certain damning pieces, that could link him to that scene unquestionably. Thinking about it made Leo's blood run cold, and he shook himself, shimmying to the edge of the couch and standing.

“Well, that's not pleasant.”

“I'm sorry, Leo.” Jemma said, quietly. “But... I can't tell you it isn't possible, when it looks like it could be, even by however slim a margin.”

Leo smiled. Jemma had been his longest and closest, most dear friend, for many reasons. Her honesty was certainly one of them. As terrifying as it was to think that someone may have tried to frame him for murder – for what reason, he didn't know – it could be worse. It could, most certainly, be worse. At the very least, it had failed, and the police were going to find the person who had truly done it. Of that, Leo had no doubt. A police officer had been killed in a brutal, intimate way. The force would not rest until the person responsible was behind bars.

If Leo could help that in any way...

“I did see a man, when I was getting there last night. I couldn't really see his face, but I remember what he was wearing, and his build, the direction he went... He may have been the killer.”

Jemma nodded. “You told the police? They'll be able to use that and find him on CCTV in the area, I bet.”

Looking over, Leo gave Jemma a guilty look.

“Leopold Fitz!”

“I forgot! It slipped my mind until I was out of there, and then I just... I wanted to get home, Jemma.” As he'd spoken, his tone had gone from defensive to plaintive, argumentative to soft. He knew that he should have gone back and told Ward, but the thought of that interrogation room, again, had stayed him. “I figured they would be watching CCTV cameras anyway, to see if they could catch something.”

Jemma's frown was almost motherly in the brand of disappointment it displayed. “I won't tell you that I don't understand that, because I'm sure they are looking, and I'm sure you were tired, and scared. But the officers reviewing that footage aren't going to have much to go on unless you help them. They can focus their surveillance efforts on that man, if you tell them he's their guy.” She leaned forward, picking up one of the detective's cards from the top of his laptop, and holding it out to him. “Call. Now. And then go shower, so you're presentable and feel more human.”

“Thanks, _mum_.”

Jemma shook her head. “Honestly, I feel like it right now.”

Leo smiled, thin, and could tell it didn't reach his eyes, before looking down at the card. It was the one that Sergeant Johnson had given him on the way out. Remembering her, Leo had an idea.

“My phone's charging by my bed so...”

Jemma nodded. “Go call. I'll clean up our dishes while you do that.”

“Thanks.” Leo said, waiting until she stood to step into her space and hug her. She didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around him, hugging him back tightly.

“You're all right, now. Safe. Just call that detective and make sure you can give him that information.”

“On it.” Leo answered, letting her go and heading into his sleeping space. His phone was tucked partially under his pillow, the charging cord snaking out and down to the power bar that was just visible under his bed. Leo listened for a second to make sure that Jemma was busying herself with the dishes, and then tugged the phone out and opened up the browser, going to the local police's website and searching for Sergeant Daisy Johnson. It didn't take him long to find her; she was the only Daisy Johnson on the force. She looked a bit different in her photo, her hair tucked up under her cap, not a single wisp loose, but it was undeniably her. He tapped the number that appeared next to her photo, under her rank, and raised the phone to his ear, listening to the rings, hoping she would be at her desk and would pick up.

He should have called Detective Ward, yes. That much was true. But, if Ward were the lead detective on the case, he would be busy, and there was a chance he wouldn't be answering his phone. It would be better if Leo could find out when would be best to come by and see him, and he suspected that would be when he was leaving the station.

Not only that, but there were too many things about this case that made him uneasy. The fact that he'd potentially been the victim of an attempted framing was one thing. That weapon was another. Sonic weapon, able to cause cranial bleeds, potentially so bad that a person would bash their own head in to make it stop...

Leo shuddered, and muttered, under his breath, 'get it together, Fitz.'

_Click_.

“Metro Police, Sergeant Daisy Johnson.”

“Sergeant! Uh – Ser-Sergeant Johnson.”

Leo glanced into the living area, visually confirming that Jemma was starting the water at the sink in the kitchen while Johnson answered, slowly. “Yes, this is she. Is this... Ah, Mr F...itz? From this morning?”

“Yes! Yes, um, it is me, yes. How're you?”

Leo cringed, kicking himself for not holding that back.

“I'm... fine, Mr. Fitz. I'm sorry, is this a social call? Because I would hope you would understand that--”

“--No!” Leo glanced up again, making sure he hadn't been so loud as to be heard over the running water. Jemma hadn't turned, so he suspected not. “No, this isn't. I was just... I couldn't get through to Detective Ward.”

“Oh!” Johnson's demeanour seemed to brighten so much that she sounded less like a police woman and more like an insurance broker. “That makes sense. Yeah, he's stepped away and might not be answering his phone if he's with a witness.”

_Or I never called_.

“There were witnesses aside from me?”

“I'm afraid I can't answer that.”

Leo smiled. “All right, fair, fair. Uh. Listen, I was hoping I could speak to him, but it's nothing pressing. More to... put myself at ease, if that makes sense?” Johnson made an affirming noise on the other end of the call. “I didn't want to cut into his investigation too much, but would you know when he'd be leaving the station for the day?”

“Hm, well...”

Leo crossed his fingers without thinking. He needed to talk to Detective Ward. He couldn't be idle like this, and that man was the one he needed.

“With him being the lead detective on the case, there's no set time for him to come off the clock. He doesn't usually follow guidelines with that, anyway, when he's on a case, but he _usually_ taps out around the seventeenth or eighteenth hour. Heads home to get a few hours sleep, eats and comes back. He'll probably be back in here again this afternoon, if you wanted to stop by?”

“Yeah,” Leo answered, already doing the math in his head. By his best guess, Ward would have come into the station around 3AM. Seventeen hours from that would be 8PM, 9 if he held out for eighteen hours. That gave Leo quite a few hours to kill before he could speak with Ward directly, but that was fine. “I might do that. Thank you so much, sergeant.”

“No problem. You have a good day, Mr. Fitz.”

“You, too!” He signed off, more cheerily than, perhaps, he should have, for a man who'd seen a dead body not so long ago. That was handled, though, and he had the answers he needed. Setting his phone back down next to his pillow, he padded into the kitchen, where Jemma was finishing up washing their breakfast dishes, and the ones he'd left in the sink.

“I'll help dry.” He said, grabbing a dish towel from one of his drawers. “I won't be able to see that detective until later tonight.”

“Tonight?” Jemma asked. “Couldn't you have just told him over the phone?”

Leo kept his eyes down, trying to look natural while he dried a cereal bowl. “He was about to go out after a lead, so I just made sure we had a time set to meet. It's all right.” he added, finally looking up and seeing Jemma's frown. “I need to shower and tidy up around here, anyway. I might take another nap, too.”

Jemma looked his face over for a second, before nodding and going back to the sudsy water in front of her. “I could use a nap, too. I barely slept, worrying about you.”

“You can go nap now, take the bed. I'll finish here, and then tidy up and budge you over when I'm ready to pass out, too.” Leo said, giving her a genuine smile. Jemma had been wonderfully supportive since she'd first heard from him last night. The least he could do would be to give her the bed and chance to nap.

“All right, but you're showering when we're up again.” She said firmly, folding the dish cloth in her hand and draping it over the tap. Leaning up with a hand against his neck to keep him from squirming away, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and rubbed her thumb gently over his ash blonde hair. “It'll help you feel completely normal again.”

Leo nodded, watching her go, and feeling the slightest kick of guilt for not having told her the whole truth. “Yes, ma'am.”

 

 

 

What Leo was doing could be, he supposed, seen as creepy. Perhaps even stalkerish. The problem was, what he was doing was necessary.

He had gone to the station that evening with every intention of going inside and waiting until Detective Ward left, to talk to him them. As he'd made his way back to the place where he'd spent far too much of the previous night in, however, Leo found himself sincerely questioning whether or not that was a good idea. There was a chance that the detective would speak to him freely and take what he was saying without issue. There was also a very, very high chance that someone would recognize him from earlier and, instead of being able to speak with Ward freely, Leo would be ushered into an interrogation room to wait, again, until the man saw fit to see him. Then it would be question, after question, after question, while in all probability, a host of people were watching on the other side of that one way glass.

It wasn't a prospect Leo relished. Perhaps it was his brain being far too paranoid, but he wasn't in any kind of mood to risk it.

So, instead, he was doing something that may end with him being slammed up against a concrete wall, but at least he wouldn't be locked in an interrogation room with no way out.

Hopefully.

The idea had come to him when he'd gotten off the subway and ascended the stairs back into the fading daylight, shortly after 7PM. There was an underground parking garage that Leo knew to be used by the officers and volunteers. It was controlled and guarded, but Leo knew a way in, the same way he'd known that the garage existed; he'd done a story once before where he'd needed access to that garage.

The night guard had been very friendly, once Leo had gotten him to warm up. The difference this time, of course, was that the person Leo needed to meet inside didn't know to expect him in that garage. The guard, Mike, had been able to let Leo in before and Leo hadn't felt bad because he had, really, been invited by his contact. This time, he hadn't been invited by anyone. The truth of that was eating away at him, leaving him feeling humming little thrums of guilt as he approached the guard station. What he was about to do might get Mike in trouble, if Ward asked how he'd gotten in and he didn't buy that Leo had come in through the station proper.

But what was happening was important enough, and Leo's anxiety was high enough, that he was willing to chance things on his ability to lie to Ward. If it didn't work out, he would try anything else he possibly could to keep the suspicion off Mike. For now, though, he needed to take this route.

“Evening!”

Mike looked up as Leo approached, and grinned behind the bullet proof glass of his station. He had put on some more muscle since Leo had seen him last, and the brightness of his grin was making it easy to ignore the scarring that ran down the right side of his face.

During his career in the force, Mike had been in a bad motorcycle accident that had caused severe road rash, alongside breaking his left leg so badly that he joked he was now part-cyborg. Despite his helmet, parts of his face had been badly scarred after the road rash cleared up. When Mike wasn't working the guard station, he was touring the local high schools, speaking on the importance of road safety in _all_ vehicles. He had a young son named Ace, who Leo had seen many pictures of. Ace thought his dad was a hero, and, as far as Leo was concerned, he wasn't wrong.

“Hey, Leo. Long time no see!”

Leo smiled as he stepped up to the booth, folding his arms on the lip by Mike's window. “I know. Been way too long, but I've been busy. So have you.”

“I noticed.” Mike said with a nod. “I've been reading your articles. Pretty investigative stuff, there. One of those big name magazines is going to call you up one of these days, and then I'll _really_ never see you again.”

Leo scoffed, waving one of his hands. “Me? Definitely not. How was the vacation?”

“Hm? Oh!” Mike laughed. “Man, it's been three months since we got back, I forgot I had one. But, yeah, it was good, Ace loved it.”

“It's Disneyworld.” Leo said with a laugh. “Of course he did.”

They spoke for a few more minutes, catching up on each other's lives. It was the polite thing to do and, as the garage door hadn't opened since Leo had arrived, he doubted he was in danger of missing Detective Ward as he left to go sleep for a few hours. Besides, when he didn't talk to people for a while, even acquaintances turned friends like Mike, he liked to catch up. It made him feel like he was part of something, rather than apart from it.

Eventually, though, Leo couldn't play catch up any more. Mike, he knew, was waiting to hear what had brought him there, and Leo wasn't going to keep him in the dark for much longer.

“So, I'm meeting a detective here tonight.”

Mike nodded. “Ah. Story?”

Leo shook his head. “Not quite.” There was no point in lying to Mike. It seemed disloyal to what Mike had done for him in the past, and would, hopefully, do for him tonight. “I was witness to something, last night, and I wanted to talk to the lead detective. I'm not exactly sure I told him everything that was important, but I don't really want to waste his time in the station if this is a pointless visit.”

Again, Mike nodded, but Leo could see that he was thinking this over. He was piecing together what he could of what he'd known to have happened over the past 24 hours, and what Leo could have possibly been mixed up in. Leo would have preferred he not be left able to come to the conclusion, but there was no way around it.

It was easy to see when Mike landed on the answer, in any case.

“You were the witness at Sitwell's murder.”

Hearing it put into words like that, with the name of both of officer and what had been done, made Leo's stomach turn to ice. Yes, he had been the witness of that poor man's murder. Somehow, he couldn't make his mouth say those words, though, so he settled for simply nodding. That seemed enough for Mike, and he reached around to hit the button that opened the garage door. With a shudder and a split second sound of metal grating on metal, the door shook to life, and retracted upwards.

Leo gave Mike a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Don't even worry about it, man. After what you saw... No wonder you don't want to go up there and risk pissing Ward off. Just make sure when you catch him down here? You talk fast. He's already on edge because of this whole thing. He won't be thrilled about anyone trying to waste his time, even if that's not what you're doing.”

That was good advice, and it gave Leo something to focus on. It was nearing 7:45PM, and even if Grant Ward was going to be leaving sometime soon, Leo would have at least some time to go over his thought process, and figure out how best to word what he needed to say to the detective.

With one more round of thanks, and hand-waves goodbye, Leo walked into the garage, and around the perimeter, listening to the sound of the door closing behind him.

It was gloomy in this place, which was to be expected. It was underground, and lit only by lightbulbs that glowed orange instead of white. The ceiling, floor and every wall, were drab gray concrete, and it was quiet. There was, as far as Leo could hear, only the sound of his own soft footsteps to accompany him while he made his way around to what he knew to be the only exit from the station. He'd met someone here once before and had taken the time to memorize the layout. Now, it was paying off.

He wouldn't be able to wait directly in front of the door. First of all, if someone came out that door who wasn't Ward, he would have a lot of explaining to do. Second, if Ward _did_ come out, Leo had the distinct feeling that he wouldn't appreciate walking right into his key witness, in the gloom of this parking garage.

The best plan would be to wait out of sight, but not so out of sight that he might end up terrifying the other man. It would be difficult to explain his presence if anyone else noticed him, but it was something he was willing to chance. He was willing to chance anything if it meant that he didn't run the risk of being put in that interrogation room again.

Off to the right of the door, there was a small alcove with a ledge that was deep enough to sit on, just a little higher than Leo's waist. After inspecting it with his phone's flashlight to make sure he wasn't about to put himself in something disgusting, he turned and hoisted himself up onto the ledge, and settled in to wait. This might take ten minutes, or it might take an hour. Leo couldn't know for sure, but he'd gotten plenty more sleep before coming, and felt human again after his, admittedly, long shower. He was prepared to wait as long as it took.

This whole thing was unlike anything else Leo had ever been involved with, directly or indirectly. He wrote pieces on plenty of grisly things, but there was something about this – this murder – that felt so much worse. It may have been because Leo was directly involved. He had done away with his shoes went he'd gotten home, too unsettled by the blood he could still see on them to keep them neatly tucked by his apartment door. It had been too grim of a reminder that a man had been killed, and maybe, just maybe, one or more choices that Leo could have made differently would have changed that.

There was no way of knowing that, now, and Leo had to just try and do his best to solve this. That was, of course, what he intended to do. He understood that this was a police investigation, and that he could not get in the way. The issue was that he could not shake that someone had wanted _him_ to be the one to witness that body, first. They had wanted him to be the one to call it in, or, worse, and the more likely option, be the one found with it.

That was twisted and made Leo feel physically cold enough that he rubbed his arms while he let his vision drift out of focus, vaguely pointed in the direction of the door.

Someone had wanted him to witness that dead body. Someone had wanted him to be caught standing over it.

That implied something personal. That implied something dangerous.

Leo had heard of framing cases before, but this seemed so slapped together, so badly built, that he couldn't fully believe it was solely framing. That, or the individual doing it was not in their right mind. That was a more likely explanation, but it didn't make Leo feel any better.

Now that he had failed to be framed properly, what would come of him?

Would that individual be enraged, would they attempt the same thing again, in hopes that two dead bodies would be sufficient to convince the police that Leo Fitz was a killer? If that was possible, Leo wouldn't be taking anyone up on anonymous tips for the foreseeable future, not without informing the police where he was going.

Still, Leo couldn't pretend to know what was happening, or pretend like he wasn't scared. Someone had wanted him to be at that scene, for whatever reason. He needed to give Detective Ward the information he had about the man he'd seen leaving 113 Terrace Boulevard, but he also needed to talk to someone who could assure him that he was safe. Jemma wasn't that person.

As much as she would want to assure him he was safe, Leo would be able to see right through her. He would know she was lying. Jemma would have already come to this conclusion on her own, and were Leo to ask her to tell him that he was crazy for thinking it, the lie would be obvious. She'd never been a good liar to begin with, and her heightened state of concern would make it even worse.

No, Leo needed someone who wouldn't hesitate to scoff at him and tell him that he was safe. He wasn't the target, here, that was police officers. They probably had only involved Leo to see if they could get an intrepid reporter on their case. That had to be all there was to Leo being chosen. That _had_ to be it.

Leo was so caught up in convincing himself that he'd settled the murderer's motive for choosing him that he was taken off guard when the door swung open, and a man stepped out. It took a second, from Leo's vantage point, for him to work out if the figure striding away from him was, in fact, Detective Ward.

Once Leo saw him clearly, though, he was positive that this was _not_ Grant Ward. The man was nearly as tall as Leo remembered Ward being, but there was one striking difference. This man was black, and that Ward had not been. That, and he wasn't alone. There was a figure at his side, someone Leo remembered from earlier. It was interesting that she, too, was still here, but with the investigation that was going on, Leo supposed that all hands were needed on deck.

Sergeant Johnson was out of her police uniform now, and dressed in black jeans that hugged her hips, a red top, and a black leather jacket. The man at her side was wearing a gray canvas jacket, blue jeans and a white shirt, and was laughing at something she was saying. As rude as Leo knew it was to eavesdrop, especially on what appeared to be a couple, he couldn't help it. Their words were reverberating off the concrete walls.

“It's _weird_!” Daisy was saying. “Don't laugh.”

“All right, girl, I'll admit, it's weird. Your dad, your _other_ dad, your other dad's _girlfriend_ and you all sit down and have a chat about the fact that your dad's 23 year soul searching trip is over and he's ready to be back in your life again?”

Daisy sighed. “That's pretty much it, yeah. I mean, when dad contacted me, I had Bobbi check him out, make sure this was all coming from a viable source.”

“You're lying.”

Daisy laughed. “Okay, _I_ checked him out and I had Bobbi fact check me.”

Their voices were getting harder to make out as they got further away. Leo found himself leaning forward a bit, still seated on his perch, straining to hear what it was that was being said. It was probably irrelevant, but he was a sponge for gossip. It was a hazard of the occupation.

“So, you guys did lunch. What, two weeks ago?”

“Mhmm. And that was fine... It was weird, but fine... Had coffee... Wanted... Melinda said...”

Leo frowned. Daisy and the man Leo assumed to be her boyfriend had gotten too far away. He was only making out a few words clearly, here and there. What he'd hoped would be a worthwhile distraction while he waited for the detective to leave, had been cut short. He'd have to go back to swimming in his own semi-paranoid thoughts.

He was just leaning back again when the door opened once more and another figure, solitary, strode out.

It didn't take Leo nearly as long to identify him this time.

Over the sound of a car starting somewhere deeper in the garage – Daisy's, Leo assumed – he jumped off his perch and sprinted to catch the edge of the door before it slammed shut and he'd need a key card to open it. His fingers curled around the edge and he grinned, triumphant, turning to call to Detective Ward, and make like he'd managed to follow him down here, through the station, instead of having been staked out, waiting.

“Detect-- Oh.”

Grant Ward had stopped and turned around, and was watching him with narrowed eyes, his hands on his hips, clearly not falling for whatever story Leo was concocting in his head. Leo should have foreseen this. There was a reason Ward had been assigned as lead detective in such a high profile case. He wasn't going to be fooled by some freelance journalist running around behind him, playing like he'd come from anywhere but the alcove off to the right.

“Something you needed, Mr. Fitz?” Ward opened, not shifting from where he was standing, or putting his hands down. From where Leo was standing, he looked like a disappointed father. At least he wasn't angry, or suspicious. Well, no more than was necessary, finding Leo seemingly stalking him. “I would assume that's why you were staking out this exit, so you could get me alone.”

“I, ah...”

Ward sighed.

“Well, yes.”

With an impatient motion, Ward urged him on. “I've been working for almost 18 hours. I have four or five to go home, eat something, and get some sleep, before I have to come back here and keep working on this hellhole of a case. If you're looking for a quote for some article you want to write about the story, look somewhere else, because you aren't getting it from me. Johnson told me you called earlier, and, you know, I really hoped you weren't going to be _that reporter_ , who witnesses a murder scene and decides it's their goddamn _duty_ to inform the masses about exactly what they saw.”

Leo considered breaking in, but he was a little in awe of the rant the man was going off on. He'd clearly had some time to think over why it was Leo had called earlier, or he was just going off the handle, and managing it swimmingly. Leo almost wasn't offended that his character was being dragged through the dirt.

“I guess I should have made sure we put a gag order on you, though, because you're the most ruthless reporter in this city, and it doesn't matter that an officer lost his life, so long as you get your headline, right? You even traumatized by all this? Are you even the least bit affected?”

The insinuation that Leo didn't _care_ , or that he wasn't dealing with what he'd seen, was what broke him out of his state of awe.

Letting go of the door, Leo strode forward, until he was barely a foot away from the taller man. Drawing himself up as much as he could, he fixed Ward with a hard look, and fought to keep his voice level. “I'm _very_ aware of what happened, and, for your information? I'm not here for a quote, I'm not here for an article. The thought of touching any of this as a journalist makes my stomach turn, because I didn't ask for it and that poor man didn't either, but he's dead and I'm bloody terrified about why the hell I was pulled into this.”

Leo may have been mistaken, but he thought he saw the smallest change in Ward's expression. It seemed to go from incredulous and annoyed to chagrined and concerned in the space of a few seconds. It could have been the shoddy lighting, but Leo was almost sure of what he was seeing. The detective seemed to actually be hearing him, and taking to heart that he wasn't here for his own gain.

“I came down here to tell you something, something I forgot earlier that might help you, but... You know what, I... I – all right.” Leo took a second to gather himself together. It was difficult, with the memories of Sitwell's dead body crowding his thought process.

“Here.” Ward said, after a second, waving one hand. “Walk with me to my car, all right?”

He was being kinder than he'd been before, during the interrogation. Leo wondered if that was because he had admitted to having no designs for an article, and sympathy for Sitwell. Perhaps that made him more human, in the detective's eyes. Whatever the reason, Leo wasn't questioning it, following along at Ward's side while he walked to his car. After a few seconds, Leo took a breath, and tried again.

“There was a man. He was leaving the building when I got there, but I didn't really notice anything about him.”

Ward's arms had tensed. “And you neglected to mention this earlier because...?”

“I honestly forgot.” Leo said, sincere, turning to Ward and hoping he saw it in his eyes. “There was a lot... And I forgot about him until I was already gone. I don't know how much use this information will even be. He was wearing a dark coat... past his hips, if I remember right. Collar turned up. A hat... fedora maybe? It was raining so his face was turned down. He wasn't wearing jeans. Dark pants. Not black, but not khaki.”

Ward nodded. He had pulled a notebook out of his jacket pocket and was writing while Leo spoke. “Do you remember what direction he headed?”

“I was coming from the east, and he walked away from me, so west?”

“That helps.” Ward said quietly, still writing. “There's a few CCTV cameras down that way. Not quite as many as there were the way you came, because of the subway, but there are some. We might be able to see him, track where he went, or at least guess at it. That helps. It would have helped a lot more to know that we were looking for this guy when we were going through CCTV footage earlier...”

Leo swallowed, and nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on a car with a moderately bent bumper in the distance. “I know. I'm sorry I didn't remember sooner.”

“Or come in with this information when Sergeant Johnson _told you_ that I usually duck out at the seventeen hour mark?”

Leo looked over at the detective again. Outside of the interrogation room, he wasn't nearly as intimidating. He was a big man, there was no mistaking that, but he wasn't nearly as terrifying as he'd seemed. Leo attributed some of that to how he'd been feeling in the aftermath of finding the body. He wasn't to be relied upon for making judgments in a moment like that.

Now, Ward seemed much more receptive, and willing to listen. Maybe it was because exhaustion was beginning to set in for him. Maybe it was gratitude for Leo coming forward with this information. Whatever it was, it made Leo feel less like he wouldn't be able to ask what he was about to.

“No, because I wanted... I needed to talk to you about something else.”

Ward nodded, a clear indication for Leo to continue, while he guided him into another aisle of cars. This place was a labyrinth.

“I... I'm a little concerned about the fact that someone specifically singled me out to witness that. Someone made sure I would be there to witness the body, _and_ be found with it by the police. I never finished calling, and you guys got there too quickly for me to have called anyway. I'm just... There's... _Why_?”

Leo looked up at Ward again, finding him watching patiently, with no judgment present on his face. That was somewhat comforting.

“Why did they want me to be there? Did they _want_ me to report on it? What kind of sick, twisted fuck--”

“--You'd be surprised how many there are.”

Leo frowned at him for cutting in. “What kind of asshole does something like that? And if that wasn't why... I want to know why I was chosen.”

Leo had spent a lot of time thinking about things, while he'd been sitting in that alcove. Was he and Grant walked, he could see another vehicle pulling out of the garage from the other side, presumably Daisy and her boyfriend. He waited while it moved out of the garage, and then continued. This would be the hardest part to convince Ward on, but he hoped he'd be able to.

“I need to know why, actually. And I'm going to find out why, so, I figured, I might as well let you know now, and, I thought, what the hell, it would be better if we worked together, right?”

Ward was looking at him with an expression that was nearing his incredulous one from before. Leo wasn't thrilled about that, but he plowed on ahead, hoping he could convince Ward before he made up his mind against it.

“You _know_ I'm a good journalist, and if you don't let me work with you, and I keep investigating this – as is my right, because I was pulled into this, and I'm nearly positive that it could be a detrimental to my physical _and_ mental well-being – I'm going to be getting in your way, getting underfoot. I could be an asset. Bring me in as a consultant. You _know_ that I'm good at this. I can help you, and you...” Leo took a breath, and realized how close he was getting to the point of hysteria. He had witnessed a dead body, a brutally murdered body, and for so many reasons, that was needling its way under his skin, driving him closer and closer to the edge. He needed to do something, and he needed someone to do it with him. He couldn't ask Jemma to do that. He didn't really _have_ anyone else he could ask. He needed someone, and in the concerned expression Grant Ward had shown him not so long ago, by the door, he'd found that someone.

At least, he hoped.

“I know you don't like me. And I don't know if I like you. But I can help you, and you can help me keep from losing my bloody mind over this.” Leo stopped, his shoulders rising and falling while he breathed, trying to keep his cool. Taking about it was making it more real. “Please.”

This was a lot to ask, and he knew it. If Ward accepted, even bringing him on as a consultant, he was bringing a journalist into a murder investigation. He was bringing in a civilian who didn't really have much real world experience that was applicable to what they would be doing and, more than just that, this civilian was directly linked to the case. It was a huge gamble to take, and Leo wouldn't be surprised if Ward shut him down with a flat, immediate no.

The fact that he wasn't was astounding. The other man seemed to be thinking over what Leo had asked. It was clear on his face that he was weighing the pros and cons of this. Leo just hoped that the pros outweighed the cons.

“You're going to get in the way, either way.” Ward said, slowly. Leo didn't respond, didn't nod or shake his head, only waited. They were balancing on a precarious tightrope right now. He needed to not push Ward into turning him down.

“You're right, Mr. Fitz. I don't think I like you all that much. You're a dick journalist who will go wherever he smells a story, and you don't seem to care what stones you turn or what boats you rock. That's not something that I generally admire.”

Leo's ego was taking a hit, and that made it harder for him to keep from speaking up. He managed it, though, barely, and Ward continued.

“But I can't deny that when it comes to your investigative skills, they're good. You manage to do what few others can, and that's something that, on this case, may be an asset.” Ward sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. They'd come to a stop in front of a black Dodge Charger. It was a few years old, but it was in good condition. Leo wasn't surprised. Detective Grant Ward struck him as the kind of man who would take good care of his machine. “I'll bring you on as a consultant. You need to get here at 7AM tomorrow. I'll do my best to be at the station. Dress comfortably, but professionally. I'll have someone make up a badge for you, something you can use while you're out with me. Nothing official, obviously, but we have had consultants in the past, so there's a protocol for this sort of thing.”

“Thank you.” Leo breathed, sticking out his hand forcefully for a handshake. “Thank you, Detective Ward.”

“Don't make me regret it, Mr. Fitz.”

“Call me Leo.”

Ward's eyes closed for a second, as they dropped hands, and Leo suspected he was about to roll them. Instead, he waved at his car. “Get in. I'll give you a lift home. It's getting too dark for you to be out.”

Leo frowned, but didn't argue, moving to the passenger side of the car while Ward depressed the button on the key fob to unlock the doors. “I was out much later than this, last night.”

“That's my point.” Ward said, as they climbed into the vehicle. “You weren't wrong when you said that there's something concerning about you being targeted to be involved in this. Do me a favour tonight, and write up a list of anyone who might consider you an enemy.”

Leo pulled the seatbelt across his chest, his fingers feeling numb while he did. Ward hadn't done anything to assuage his fears that he was being targeted. He'd only made them worse.

“Oh.” Ward looked over, before he pulled out of the spot and headed for the garage exit. “And I guess... You can call me Grant.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Somehow, falling asleep that night wasn't nearly as simple as Leo had hoped.

Going down to the station had been meant to serve two purposes. Maybe three. He had come away successful at telling Ward – Grant – about the stranger he'd seen at the office building, and successful in convincing Grant to allow him to work alongside the detective in the investigation, because he was good at what he did, and he needed to understand why it was that he'd ever been involved in the first place.

The issue was, he had also come away with a profound understanding that the reason he may have been involved might lead to him being in more danger than he'd been before all of this had begun.

Grant had asked him to write up a list of anyone who might consider him an enemy. Leo had started with the individuals whom he had done exposing pieces on, and then moved on to the people who had been caught in the crossfire from those pieces. The ones who had toppled as a result of his stories, and even some sources whom he hadn't been able to protect when the chopping block was set up. It was an unfortunate side effect of journalism, and of having various sources. Sometimes, as hard as one tried to keep those sources anonymous, the people on the inside of the situation could easily suss out who the leak had been.

Sources didn't seem to always understand that. Just because they knew what they knew, and no one outside of the subject Leo was investigating knew that, didn't make them truly anonymous. Leo could swear up and down that he'd uncovered the information himself – and he had, many times, done just that, to protect a source – but at the end of the day, if the CEO is siphoning off funds to his own private account, and Leo's source happens to be the one who balances the books after that siphoning is done, the pool of where that information could have come from narrows.

Making the list had _seemed_ an easy task. Leo had ended up with more than 50 possible persons of interest. Now, it was true, he wasn't filtering much. His subjects, those who had gone down with them, and the impacted sources were all written down, even if Leo had hummed and hawed for a second about how likely it would be.

48 hours previous, he wouldn't have thought it likely that he would stumble upon the body of a violently murdered cop, but here he was.

Chances were that he was making more work for both himself _and_ Grant, but he would have to take that chance. There was every possibility that one or more of these people could, by some twist of imagination, be orchestrating the situation in which he was hooked to take the fall for what had happened. Grant's input would be vital in narrowing the list of suspects, especially to those who had issues with the police.

Then again, they may have involved him in the death of an officer _because_ of how damning it would be and how difficult it would make his life.

Leo sighed, loudly, and rolled over in bed, staring at the opposite wall. He could still smell Jemma's perfume on his pillow. She'd probably put too much on before she'd come over, earlier. It was comforting, nevertheless. Like his best friend was there, and if he opened his mouth to ask, she would tell him, point blank, that he was overthinking things. She hadn't been all that thrilled with Leo, earlier, when he'd told her what he'd arranged with Detective Ward. She had, in fact, called it reckless and obsessive, and she'd been none too pleased with Ward for feeding into his paranoia. By the time they'd hung up, however, she had extracted about seven promises from him to be safe, and had agreed that this may be the best way to get to the bottom of things.

Jemma, ever the supportive friend, knew that Leo had a knack for investigative mysteries. He'd have probably done well for himself, she'd always said, to have gone into private investigation. Leo appreciated that, and, some days, he thought the same.

Then he remembered that the bulk of what PIs did was related to investigating cheating husbands and wives.

It just didn't strike his fancy nearly as much as what he did now.

It did, however, line up with what he'd offered himself up to do. The fact that Ward – _Grant_. Leo had been given permission to call him by his name, and he needed to try and do just that. The fact that _Grant_ had taken him up on his offer to help was huge, and directly in the realm of private investigation. It was what Leo would have liked to do – but, perhaps, without the ties to himself. He could definitely do without investigating something that might end up proving he was mixed up in something really, truly dangerous.

He needed to stop thinking. He wasn't getting any sleep, and he needed it. Grant hadn't sounded like he'd be forgiving if Leo wasn't on time in the morning. He'd been lucky enough to land this allowance, he needed to prove that he was capable of being as much of help as he'd marketed himself as. As much as Leo hated to medicate in order to sleep, this might be the one situation in which he could justifiably break his own rules.

Rolling over again, he sat up, and rubbed a hand over his face. If he remembered right, he still had a packet of night time formula Neocitran in his bathroom cupboard, the same place he stored Tylenol and Advil and cough medicine. If he did have that packet, it would be easy to brew it, drink it, and send himself off to sleep, considering it contained a sleep aid. If he didn't, a teaspoon of cough medicine would do the trick nicely.

Leo swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded into the bathroom, squinting against the bright lights when he thumbed the switch on. He might not have been able to sleep, but he had been lying in the dark for at least two hours. His eyes weren't adjusted to light, and, squinting, he pulled the bathroom cupboard open, and scanned the shelves for that blue and white packet he so hoped he had.

There it was. Second shelf, pushed behind a few old prescription bottles for antibiotics he'd picked up while sick, the few times he'd needed. Smiling, triumphant, Leo palmed the three of them, moving them out of the way, and aiming to toss them in the garbage can that was sandwiched between the toilet and bathroom sink.

Maybe it was because it was so quiet, or maybe it was his paranoia, but Leo picked up a sound on the other side of the bathroom wall that made him jump, the prescription bottles clattering to the floor.

The other side of the bathroom wall was the entry hall to his studio apartment. It _sounded_ like someone was trying to unlock his front door. Trying and failing, fumbling in the process. It was likely that it was one of his neighbours. There were a few college kids on this floor, not surprising, since it was an affordable building and not so far from the community college campus. It wouldn't be the first time that one of them had come home either drunk, high, or exhausted from late night studying, and aimed for Leo's door instead of their own.

Leo would have been happy to believe that was all it was, if they had been louder about it. Usually they thumped on the door, or groaned, or cussed out the lock for not opening easily.

None of that was happening now, and that made the hairs on the back of Leo's neck stand up.

“I'm being paranoid.” He whispered to himself, bending slowly to pick up the prescription bottles. He listened hard, while he did, focusing on the noise of his door lock grating and clicking, the sound echoing in the long, empty hallway next to his bedroom alcove. The prescription bottles landed in the garbage can silently while he listened, feeling increasingly tense.

This wasn't a drunk neighbour. This wasn't some college kid too tired from studying to remember what apartment was his.

Someone was trying to get in.

Standing, quickly, Leo shut the cupboard as quietly as he could, and flicked off the bathroom light, hurrying into his room and heading for his linen closet. It had a normal door on it, and he would be able to completely shut it if he had to. He was about to climb inside, thanking his lucky stars that he only had a few towels and four sets of bedsheets that he stored in here, with his secondhand vacuum, when he remembered his phone, sitting at his bedside, charging.

It took a split second of Leo worrying his lip before he made the choice and dashed back across the bedroom, yanking the charging cord out of his phone and taking it with him into the closet. He'd just settled in the large bottom area, his vacuum shoved off to the side, when he heard the sound of his apartment door opening.

Who ever had been trying to get in had managed it.

Leo's heart was in his throat. There was someone in his apartment, less than 24 hours after he'd found a dead body that he suspected he'd been framed into finding, and the lead detective didn't seem to believe that was far off the mark.

There was someone in his apartment, potentially to _kill him_ , and he was hiding in a closet with his worn old towels and his seldom used vacuum cleaner.

He was going to be found.

He was going to die.

The person who had broken into his apartment was being quiet about it. That was obvious to Leo, because before he knew it, that person's shadow was crawling across the bedroom floor outside the closet. Leo inhaled, and covered his mouth with his hand, convinced even that sound could give him away. If he stayed quiet, maybe he would be okay. If he stayed quiet, slow, deep breaths, he wouldn't die.

He hadn't closed the closet door all the way. In the heat of the moment – in the heat of a few quick seconds – he'd had the intuition that the door being just a half inch open would look more natural than had it been closed all the way. Especially with the form that the rest of his apartment was in. A half closed door would fit nicely with the notebooks and old story pieces he had on almost every flat surface. It helped that the folding doors on his clothes closet hadn't been closed all the way and his jeans from that day were still laid on the floor, along with the pair he'd spotted earlier, under his bed. This apartment was in a safe state of disarray, the closet door would go unnoticed.

Focusing on that helped Leo keep calm, while the shadow in his room passed away from the closet. Risking it, unable to ignore his curiosity, Leo leaned forward, watching the shadow move towards his bed. It felt like his heart was going to crack one of his ribs with the way it was hammering. This person had broken into his dark apartment and gone straight for his bed. All Leo could hope was that it wasn't still warm enough for the intruder to touch it and guess that he wasn't far away. That was the sort of thing that he would see in a horror movie.

Right before the killer sussed out that the stupid mark was hiding in the closet and put a bullet between their eyes.

Leo was glad he still had his mouth covered.

The intruder didn't linger long at his bed before he was striding past the closet. For a second, Leo was sure that he was about to be found, but the footsteps passed on by. They weren't trying to be as quiet as they had been before. It wasn't a very big apartment, it wasn't hard to believe that Leo wasn't in it based on the initial surveillance. Leo had never been happier that he lived in a small, easily cased unit.

That didn't mean he could relax, yet. There was still someone in his apartment who very likely would kill him if he heard him bump the vacuum. With that person in the other room, though, Leo settled back in the closet, edging back against the wall, keeping himself as much in the shadows as possible. All he had to do is wait it out until they left, which, hopefully, would be soon, and, hopefully, it would be without each and every nook and cranny being checked.

“Didn't fucking work.”

Leo just barely stopped himself from jumping and banging his head on the lowest shelf above his head. The voice wasn't quiet, but it wasn't conversational. The person in his apartment was speaking, but quietly, maybe so no one would be able to testify that they'd heard an American voice, when Leo was known to have a notable Scottish accent. Leo's fear that he was being spoken to dissipated with the next words that the invader spoke.

“He's not here. Probably went out for a drink.” There was a pause, and when the man spoke again, there was a more obvious edge of annoyance to his tone. “I don't _know_. He's not here.”

Leo let out a slow breath, leaning back more. They didn't think he was here. That was good, that was really good. He just needed to wait it out until he left, and then call Ward.

The thought of Ward reminded him that he'd programmed the detective's phone number into his cell earlier that night. Grant had waited and made sure that it was put into his contacts before he'd left the front of Leo's building. Just because Leo couldn't call Grant didn't mean he couldn't text him. He was deep enough in the closet that he should be able to open up his phone without the light from the screen causing a distraction that would be seen from outside it.

The man in his apartment was still talking, but Leo was more focused on this, now. Carefully, keeping the phone tucked close to his chest, Leo turned the screen on, turning down the brightness as much as possible before opening the messaging app. Double-checking that the sound was turned off, he opened a message to Grant, and typed the words out quickly.

 

> _Someone in apartment. Hiding in closet. Safe for now._

 

That was quick and concise enough. There was no possible way that Grant could mistake that. Leo wasn't sure what the detective could do from wherever he was. Leo hadn't asked, but he was positive that Grant would probably still be at home, trying to sleep. It would make sense for him to have his sound turned on on his phone, but that wouldn't matter much.. It wasn't like Grant could ride to his rescue right now. It was just that Leo felt it was something that he needed to say in the moment, rather than bringing it up once the morning came.

Not that he thought he would be able to stay here, for the rest of the night. Certainly not until the morning.

Turning off the phone screen, Leo let out his breath, again, leaning his arms back. One of his elbows bumped the back wall. The other slipped, and kept on going, back, until it hit fabric.

Then Leo remembered the thing that had bothered him about the apartment when he'd moved in.

When he had been shown the apartment the first time, he'd fallen in love with it. It was cozy, and homey, and it fit his needs, especially the price. Leo had signed the lease the day after he'd seen the apartment. It wasn't until he'd been moving in that he'd realized that there was an issue with the closet, or, to be more precise, _closets_. The coat closet in the living area, closest the entrance hallway, and the linen closet in the sleeping area, were only separated by a piece of smooth chipboard. It was flimsy, and only barely held in place by runners installed on the opposing walls. The worst part of it was that there was a large piece broken off in the bottom corner against the back wall. It was annoying as all hell, but Leo could deal with it.

Now, he was thanking his past self for not talking to the landlord about this broken piece of chipboard. It was making it possible for Leo to edge even deeper into the closet, hidden from the other side in the folds of his trenchcoat. That had been an impulse buy and had made a perfect cover for the chipboard hole, when he'd realized how stupid he looked in it and tucked it away in the back of the coat closet. He could wait this out. He could.

“I'll turn the place upside down. See if he had anything relating to the project here, and then report back in an hour.”

Whoever Leo's intruder was on the phone with must have signed off without a goodbye, because the man in his living room muttered, “Crazy asshole,” before his footsteps approached the bedroom, again. Leo tensed, waiting for him to approach his hiding spot, but he didn't. The footsteps passed by and moved towards the other closet. There was the sound of the doors opening, and then his cheap wire hangers grating on the rod while the man looked through it. There were some plastic file cases in there. It was the biggest closet in the house and the best place for Leo to keep research for old stories. Looking through them would keep him busy, at least for a few minutes, but he would, more than likely, eventually get to this closet, and then, Leo was sure, he wouldn't last long.

He needed to get out of here.

In the midst of his panic, wondering just how the hell he was going to slip out, he nearly missed his phone screen lighting up against his chest. It was only when it shut off again that Leo noticed it had been on at all, and he pulled it back, looking at the message that had brought it to life.

 

> _Coming now. If you can get out, get out._   
>  _Driving as fast as possible._

 

Grant was coming. The detective, the detective who had a gun, and fight training, was coming. Not that Leo considered himself a damsel in distress, but he was a journalist in an old _Doctor Who_ shirt and his boxers, hiding in the hole between his linen and coat closets. He was unarmed, untrained and far from ready for whatever this guy could do to him. Grant would be helpful, here.

There was a problem, in that Leo didn't know where Grant lived, but he was concerned about Grant's ability to get here before the intruder opened the closet door and found him.

Leo had to take Grant's advice. If he could get out, he had to get out.

And he had to do it now.

The issue was, the man in his apartment was currently in his bedroom, directly in view of the closet where Leo was hiding. If Leo went out through that door, he would be in full view, and he wouldn't make it to his front door. There was absolutely no way.

He couldn't go through that door.

That only left one exit, and it wasn't the most appealing.

Leo would be able to fit through the hole in the chipboard. He could inch his way backwards, into the coat closet, as long as he was careful about where he put his hands and didn't knock anything askew or pull anything down. The issue, then, was that he needed to get the folding door open without the guy in his bedroom hearing it, and get to the apartment door and gone before he was caught. It was almost impossible, and would almost definitely end with him being shot.

The alternative, however, was staying in this closet and absolutely getting shot.

Leo didn't love his odds, but he needed to take the shot.

Listening carefully while the intruder flipped open his file cases, Leo moved backwards, ducking his chin to his chest while he slid under the chipboard. His phone was nestled in his lap, screen down, and quiet. Grant wouldn't be texting him while he was driving. He needed to focus on getting here, not on sending Leo traffic updates.

“How many fucking cases of this fucking shit...”

Not for the first time, Leo congratulated himself for his packrat ways. Keeping so much research from past stories was saving his ass now. If this guy wanted to find information on the project, he was going to have to be thorough, and check every single case. He wasn't being quiet about it either. Muttering to himself, clacking the cases against each other while he moved them. If Leo was careful, he would be able to do this. This wouldn't be so hard, and he would prove to himself that he wasn't some kind of damsel in distress.

Once he was fully in the closet, it was just a matter of getting back to his feet. With his phone clutched in one hand, he turned over onto his knees, and pulled his feet up under himself, before he slowly, slowly stood up. His coats and jackets brushed against him as he did, and he needed to brush a scarf off that had gotten caught on his shoulder, all the while listening intently to the noise from the other room. Still, he hadn't stopped going through the cases. If Leo had made a noise – and he was sure he hadn't – the man hadn't noticed. He was doing well.

Now he just had to get this closet door open.

The issue with folding doors was that there was no way to move them without making _some_ sort of noise. They ran on tracks on the top, and even if they were moved slowly, the wheels running along those metal grooves still made some kind of noise. As long as he was looking through those cases, and cussing Leo out for having so many, though, there was little chance that he would hear Leo making his escape.

There were a lot of cases. Leo just had to hope that he was only halfway through them.

Pressing his palm to the door, he pushed forward, gently, watching while the seam in the middle split, and moonlight came through the gaps between the doors and the hinges. The wheels above him ground softly while they shifted forward, and Leo held his breath out of reflex. If he wasn't making sound, maybe the door would make less.

It was a stupid reflex, but it was the best he had.

Second by second, he pushed against the door, widening the gap between the wall and its edge. As soon as it was wide enough for him to slip through, Leo was going to chance it. He couldn't nitpick whether the space was wide enough to pass broadside. He needed to get out of here. That was all he could think about, all he could focus on. The gap was widening, and in a few seconds, he would be able to pass through.

“Other closet better not be full of shit like this, too. Fucker's gonna get home before I even finish the goddamn bedroom.”

Leo's stomach turned to ice, radiating out and freezing him where he stood. There were three closets in his apartment. The bedroom closet, the linen closet, and the one he was attempting to make his daring escape from, right now. The obvious choice for the next closet to check would be the linen closet, as it was closest to the one the man was searching now.

The thing was, that closet wouldn't take long to check. It would be no time before Leo was caught standing here, inching the door open as quietly as possible.

He needed to get out.

He needed to get out right now.

The _clack_ sound of the file cases being stacked on top of each other again sounded like like the ticking of a clock, counting down the seconds until there was no escape left to make. Once he finished with that closet, he would check the linen closet, and then step into the living room to see the coat closet half open. The man would know, in a minute, that Leo had been here the whole time.

There was no more time to agonize over whether or not the door was open wide enough. Inching over, carefully placing his feet on top of old pairs of boots and spare pairs of shoes, Leo moved until he could press his shoulder against the wall, and step out, carefully. The door wasn't quite open enough, and it caught against his chest.

Leo lifted his hands to grip the edge. He would pull up on the door, and inch it forward, hopefully minimizing the sound, so he could get out. He was so close, he would make it.

A familiar squeak drew his attention back to the other room. His bedroom closet had an old hinge, and the sound was so faint that, normally, it didn't bother Leo. Tonight, it sounded loud as a gunshot, and his brain responded exactly as a deer's would to that exact sound.

With a shove, Leo pushed the closest door the extra inch open, and bolted. The intruder had shut his apartment door when he'd come in, but he hadn't relocked it. It only took Leo a second to pull it open and slam it behind him, sprinting down the hall toward the elevator.

That was a bad idea. The elevator could likely be on any of the other floors. It might not get there fast enough to get Leo free.

Especially because Leo had heard a shout behind him, before the quiet crash of some of the file cases toppling over. Leo suspected he'd had them to the side, and was moving them out of his way as he put them back in the closet. That move had slowed him down, enough that Leo had been able to get out of the apartment.

It wouldn't slow him down long enough for Leo to get off this floor.

His heart was hammering in his chest, his breath coming fast, panicked. His phone was clutched in his hand in a sweaty grip while his bare feet pounded the floor, racing only slightly slower than his brain.

He needed an escape route off this floor. The elevator might be too slow, but there were three staircases, one at each end of the floor, and one at the bend where the two hallways that made up this floor met at a 90 degree angle. Leo's brain provided the plan, and he took it, not really thinking it through, racing toward the elevator, at one end of the hallway.

He barely managed to stop before he crashed into the door, and slapped the button to call it, but he didn't linger, shooting off to the side, and through the door to the building's side staircase. He heard the boom of his apartment door hitting the wall and then pounding footsteps, while he stood frozen on the landing.

Up, or down?

Down would be the best option. Down was outside, and down was Grant, hopefully soon. But that was what this guy would expect, and Leo couldn't risk falling down a flight of stairs in his panic and being overtaken.

Up it was.

He took the stairs two at a time, using the railing to spin himself onto the next flight. He was sprinting across the landing when the door below him swung open. It would have been safer to stay put and let the man chasing him decide that he'd gone down, but Leo knew that the lack of pounding footsteps would tip him off. The hope that the elevator had been on his floor, and that the man would be slow enough to have only seen the closing doors and assumed Leo was going down, hadn't panned out.

Leo had to hope that this part would.

Yanking the door open, he ran into the hallway of the floor above him, not bothering to be quiet. Not until he ran past the door for the middle staircase, at the L-bend in the hallway. Then he slowed down and shoved that door open with enough force for the springs on top of it to squeal in protest, slowing it down while it shut again.

Then he darted into this floor's laundry room, across the hall and up two doors.

Their laundry rooms weren't huge, but they did have a few advantages. One, they were usually dark when no one was using them. Two, their doors weren't on springs, so Leo was able to open and close the door quickly with no sound. Three, the machines were stacked on top of each other in three sets, and the furthest set was placed roughly half a foot from the wall.

Just enough space for Leo to squeeze into.

He hadn't chanced turning on the light when he'd come in here. All he did was tap the home button of his phone, using the light it emitted to guide himself across the room and into the space. Only once he was safety tucked there did he put the phone against his chest and close his eyes.

He was shaking, and it was hard to control. This was terrifying; there had been someone in his apartment and now that someone was after him, and his hiding space was the gap between the wall and the laundry machines of the floor above him.

This was a recipe for him to get killed.

Listening hard, Leo paid attention to the footsteps thundering along the hallway he'd just run down. This guy wasn't trying to be quiet, which made Leo wonder how good he was at his job, if he'd been hired to kill him. It didn't mean he wouldn't be able to kill Leo and leave his body here. No one seemed to be coming out of their apartment to complain about the noise. No one would be able to testify about who had been in the building, and this place was cheap enough that video surveillance wasn't something the lobby included.

Leo's phone lit up again, and he couldn't resist looking at it, hoping and praying that it would say what he needed it to say right now.

 

> _I'm in the building. Where are you?_

 

Leo would waste time asking how Grant had gotten in, later. Now, he had to focus on biting back a sob of relief, and try to make his shaking hands comply enough to answer.

 

> _Laundry room above me hurry please pls._

 

The footsteps were coming closer, and Leo slapped his phone to his chest, pressing back into the space, feeling dust bunnies under his bare feet, the only thought filling his brain a mantra of the words _please go down, please go down, leave, please go down_.

The footsteps stopped.

Leo held his breath.

There was a squeak, and a groan, and then those footsteps were thundering away, down the stairs.

He'd fallen for it. He'd fallen for Leo's distraction, and gone down the staircase outside this laundry room. He might not have heard footsteps, but he was going, anyway. Maybe he thought Leo had disappeared back onto his own floor and was barricading himself in his apartment. That might have been a good idea, but Leo had been too panicked to risk it.

Even knowing the man had fallen for his ruse, Leo didn't move, barely risked making a sound. He couldn't. Detective Ward was coming, and only once Ward came would Leo risk moving. There was every chance that man could come back, every chance he might wonder if he'd been tricked, and check this room out to be safe. Leo couldn't risk moving.

He couldn't.

It felt like he spent an eternity there, waiting for his heartbeat to slow, waiting for Ward to come. His heartbeat wasn't slowing, and when the laundry room door finally opened, Leo froze up, again, holding his breath, eyes open wide, staring at the white wall only a few inches from his face.

The light flicked on.

“Leo?”

“Oh, thank _bloody_ Christ.”

Grant appeared a few seconds later, in front of the gap where he was hiding, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt under a navy blue button up that was heavily spotted with rain. Now that he was listening, Leo could hear the rush of water on the outside of the building. It was pouring outside.

Grant's gun was in his hand, his finger laid against the barrel.

“He gone?”

“Y – Ah, um, yeah, yeah I think. I think he's.” Leo gestured vaguely, noticing how badly his hand was still shaking. He clenched it tight and brought it down by his hip, meeting Grant's eyes. “Gone.”

After a few seconds, Grant nodded, and waved him out of the corner with his free hand.

“All right. Then, let's get you out of here.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Being at the station this time was somehow more nerve-wracking than it had been before. The last time he'd been here, Leo had been in a state of shock and disbelief that, he suspected, had numbed his nerves. This time, his body seemed to have bypassed the disbelief and gone right to shock and barely controlled panic.

It didn't help that Grant had brought him right into the bullpen and sat him down in front of his desk, in full view of the other detectives and officers who were milling around. He couldn't have a full breakdown here, as much as he wanted to. There were too many eyes on him, and if he reached a state where he couldn't keep himself from cracking, so be it, but, for now, he had enough energy to keep himself held together.

Even if he was shaking sporadically.

The drive to the station had been relatively silent, and Leo had preoccupied his mind, for a few minutes since Grant had left him here, by going over it, trying to remember what had happened. He remembered Grant showing up in the laundry room, gun in hand, and taking him out of there. Leo had insisted on going back down to his apartment. The door was unlocked, he couldn't go out in his boxers; Grant hadn't been having any of it. He'd told Leo that he had called in the break-in en route to the apartment, and that officers would be there shortly to take care of his apartment and see if they could find any evidence of who the intruder had been.

Then, after herding Leo out through the lobby in his bare feet, Grant had ushered him into the Charger that he'd left parked right in front of the doors – something Leo's landlady would have hated – and gone around to the trunk. When he'd gotten in on the driver's side, there was a pair of green track pants in his hand. He passed them to Leo with a quiet mention that they might be too big, but at least they'd cover him up.

He'd gotten out, again, then, as two cruisers pulled up, sirens off but their lightbars flashing. Leo had watched, wiggling in the passenger seat to get into the track pants, while Grant had explained what had happened to the officers. They'd pulled _their_ cruisers into visitor parking.

By the time Grant was leaning into the car and telling Leo he was taking one of the pairs of officers up to Leo's apartment, he had successfully gotten into the track pants, and felt bold enough to request Grant bring him back a pair of shoes. Grant hadn't answered but, when he'd returned ten minutes later, a pair of old runners that Leo vividly remembered crawling over, tonight, were in his hand.

They had left, then, and Grant hadn't said much. He'd asked how Leo was doing, and explained that he was going to bring him to the station. They would need to ask more questions, but it wouldn't be like the last time. There had been a question that Leo knew was on the tip of Grant's tongue, but he didn't dare ask it.

Sitting in the bullpen, now, waiting for Grant to get back from whatever he was doing, Leo couldn't help but think over his answer to that question, again and again. Why would someone target him?

Because he'd failed to be framed for the murder of Sergeant Sitwell, and he'd successfully tipped off the police that someone else had been there, and in what direction they'd left, and what they had been wearing.

_And why were you framed_?

Unbidden, the sight of the weapon that had been used to kill Sitwell came to Leo's mind, as clear and terrible as it had been when he'd first laid eyes on it, unchanged by the passage of a day. The memory caused another bout of shivering, and Leo huffed, tightening his arms around himself and hunching slightly in his seat.

“Hey... I know you're not cold, but I thought this might help.”

Leo looked up at the sound of a familiar voice. Sergeant Johnson was standing at his shoulder, with a navy blue police branded sweatshirt in her hand. She didn't seem like she was in a joking mood, now. In fact, the way she was looking at him almost looked like pity.

Leo didn't want pity, but he wasn't about to turn down the offer of the sweatshirt. There was something about it that seemed comforting. Being wrapped up in warm clothes would only help him settle down. He took it from Daisy's offered hand, and wasn't surprised when she moved to perch on the edge of Grant's desk, watching him.

“You want to talk about it?”

Leo frowned, looking up at her before he tugged the sweatshirt over his head. “I don't think Detective Ward wants me doing any off the record question answering about it. Are you... Are you doing the interview?”

Part of Leo didn't want that, but part of him was relieved. Daisy had been kind to him, and she might be less clinical about the break-in than Leo suspected Grant was going to be. It might be just what he needed to come to terms with what had happened. It might make it simpler to talk about if he had a sympathetic expression across the table. At the same time, however, he _knew_ that Grant would want to be involved in the interview. He was the lead detective, and Leo was _his_ consultant. He'd been the point man from the jump, and unless he was needed at Leo's apartment, or the crime scene, this was where he was going to be. Seeing as Grant had been there when Leo was terrified to even breathe, sandwiched between the wall and a pair of laundry machines, he was content with that. Grant might not be the sympathetic face that Daisy was, but he was, undeniably, becoming psychologically linked with safety, thanks to his arrival in that laundry room at that moment.

Daisy smiled, and shook her head. “I might be involved, but that's going to be Grant doing that. I just wanted to check on you, because... I mean, all right, it's obvious that there was an attempt to frame you. And then this happens. You were sitting over here hunched over and shivering. I figured you might want a friend.”

Looking at Daisy, processing what she was saying, Leo felt the distinct impression that she was too kind to be a police officer. That was bullshit, and he knew it, but not a single other person in this precinct had spared him more than a glance or an assessing look, and she'd taken it upon herself to come over and sit with him and offer to talk it over. That was kindness. That was kindness that, maybe, Leo didn't deserve, but he was willing to drink it up, with only a small jolt of shame.

“That's really nice of you. I don't really... I'll have to talk about it with Detective Ward, and I don't really _want_... I don't want to – to go over it more than once?” Leo tried, meeting Daisy's eyes while he spoke. “If that makes sense?”

Daisy nodded, adjusting her position on the desk so she could sit more comfortably. “It absolutely makes sense. So, if you only want to go over it once, then, do you want to hear something crazy?”

“Oh, this should be good.”

Leo jumped in spite of himself, looking over his opposite shoulder to see a tall, blonde woman, in uniform, standing behind him, grinning. Her gaze went from Daisy, to Leo, and she offered her hand to him, her expression changing from her amused grin to a soft smile.

“Lieutenant Bobbi Morse.” She said, introducing herself while Leo shook her hand. “You must be that journalist I heard about.” She sighed when they let go of each other's hands, and crossed her arms. “You haven't had an easy day, have you?”

Lieutenant Morse gave off the same air that Grant did. Confident, in control, and tough. At the same time, however, there was an approachability to her, something that made her seem like she was in possession of a welcoming personality for the right people. And, clearly, she had a heart. She'd intruded on their conversation, yes, but she'd made sure to introduce herself to Leo immediately, and had, in her own way, seemed to offer sympathy for what he'd witnessed and been through.

In light of the true victim here, Sergeant Sitwell, Leo couldn't exactly feel deserving of that kind of sympathy, but he certainly wasn't about to throw it back in her, or Daisy's, face.

“It's not been average, I can say that.” Leo answered.

Morse nodded. “Not for us, either. Grant said he'd brought you in because someone broke into your apartment. If you need a distraction from that absolute hell? I'm pretty sure that story Daisy was about to tell will do it. Her life is a soap opera right now, and it would be funny if it wasn't so weird.”

“No, no,” Daisy said, smiling. “It's pretty funny. You want to hear it?”

Leo's natural curiosity was part of what had drawn him to journalism. Just because this was the details of someone's life – perhaps to do with the man Leo had seen with her the night before – didn't mean he wasn't nursing a burning need to know.

“It'll keep my mind off of all this. And Grant isn't back yet, so...” Leo smiled, encouragingly, and glanced at Morse as she whistled softly.

“He called him Grant.”

Daisy nodded, giving the other woman what Leo thought looked like a sly look. “He did.”

“I think that must mean that the resident hardass might actually _like_ him.” Morse continued, then, to Leo, “Grant can take some warming up. But if you got to the point where he's willing to let you call him by his first name, then welcome to the club, because there are so, _so_ few of us.”

“And rarely this fast.” Daisy added, before she held up her hands. “So, this story.”

Leo found himself smiling, in spite of what had happened. Daisy had come over here to distract him, and Morse showing up had only helped that along. The two of them were creating an atmosphere that not only kept Leo's mind off of what had happened, but was warm, and inviting. It was exactly what he needed, to pass the time until Grant came to interview him.

“So, my dad is actually... He was a family friend. My mom died in a car accident when I was really little.”

“Like, think age two.” Morse interjected, for Leo's benefit. “Very young.”

“Yeah. So, my mother was killed, and my dad... He went off the deep-end, in a big way. Child services were called in, and I was taken away and given to my godfather. Dad – Phil – doesn't really have any blood relation to me, but if it wasn't for my mom's will, I'd have come up in the foster system. She'd named Phil as my guardian, should something happen to her and my father, and when she died, that happened. My father was taken to a hospital to get help, and Phil took care of me while that happened, but my father? He never came back. There's record of his discharge, but no one knows where he went. Phil thinks – thought – that he went on a sort of pilgrimage? He and my mother didn't have any living relatives, but Phil thought that maybe my father had gone to China, to my mother's home, just to reconnect with her in some way.” Daisy shrugged. “It made sense. I did it, a few years ago. Phil took me and I got to see the place she was born, and grew up, before her family moved here. China's really, really beautiful, and...”

She waved a hand, pulling herself back from whatever road she had been about to go down. Leo had to admit, he was curious, and listening to Daisy talk about her mother's home had been rewarding. She had seemed happy to talk about her mother, but, Leo supposed, perhaps that had little to do with this story, because when she continued speaking, it wasn't about China and her mother.

“Anyway, Phil legally adopted me, raised me. He encouraged me to follow my dreams and do whatever I wanted to do and be whatever I wanted to be. I mean, he's the reason I didn't listen to anyone who told me, when I was seven, that a girl shouldn't be a police officer. Now look at me!”

“You're a damn fine police officer.” Morse said, and Leo made note of the tone of pride in her voice. These officers were not just people who came to work every day and nodded to each other. It was obvious that they were close, friends and colleagues.

“Thank you. So, anyway, Phil has been my dad for _most of my life_.” Daisy made sure to emphasize those words, patting Grant's desk with each one. “And then, like, two months ago? Month and a half? This guy shows up who I can only remember from pictures, and it's my biological dad.”

“Absolutely out of the blue, might I add.”

Daisy pointed at Morse. “Exactly. Anyway, turns out, yeah, he was on a soul searching quest for the last 20 odd years, but he's back now, and he wants to get to know me, and my dad – uh, Phil – again. And he wants to get to know Phil's girlfriend, Melinda--”

“--Who, honestly? I'm surprised he hasn't married yet.”

“You and me both, Bob.” Daisy said with a sage nod. “And, of course, my fiance, Antoine. Like, he shows up three months after we get engaged, back from his soul-searching, and he wants to get to know all of us.”

“That's...” Leo blew out a breath. “No, you're right, that does sound like a soap opera.”

“Right?” Daisy spread her hands wide in a gesture of incredulity. “At first, he just approached me, so, of course, I checked him out, and then I had Bobbi double check that, because I needed to be sure. My dad – dammit – _Phil_ is a city councilor. I don't know what someone could gain from convincing me they're my long lost biological father, but maybe it was some kind of scam that had to do with Phil. But, we did our research, and he's on the level.”

Bobbi was nodding again, but Leo was remembering the conversation he'd overheard the night before while he'd been waiting for Grant in the parkade. Daisy had been talking about this weird situation, with the man that Leo now assumed was Antoine. She'd been talking about her dad coming back to town and wanting to get to know her.

“So, then, last night, Antoine and I went out for dinner, and we were chatting about all this, and who knows up but _Cal_ – that's my father's name, by the way, Cal – and he's dressed all nice, fancy coat, hat, in a suit, like, he looks _good_. He looks like he raided my dad's closet. And he pulls up a seat and joins us for dinner, and, keep in mind, I _just_ got back to the station after you and Grant got here. I didn't have a whole lot of time to spend with Antoine before I had to get some sleep and be back here. It's all hands on deck right now.”

Leo nodded. It didn't seem like a very long time ago that he'd seen Daisy leaving, but, in some ways, it felt like a very long time. If she'd actually been able to sleep, though, Leo imagined it felt like much shorter time than it did to him.

“He just randomly came over and _joined_ you guys?” Morse asked. “Without being asked? How did he know you were there?”

Daisy shrugged, the look on her face saying that she'd already wondered these things and been unable to produce an answer for them. “He hung around for maybe ten minutes, and then asked me to give him a call later this week so we can make plans for dinner with the five of us, and then he took off. I swear, I know... I know he's my dad, but he's so _out there_ , and he's acting like some kind of guardian angel. Just popping up out of nowhere like that.”

“It's weird.” Morse agreed. Leo nodded.

“He just came back into your life two months ago, and he keeps showing up and asking to make dinner plans?” He asked. “I understand, of course, you're his daughter and he wants to have a connection with you again, but...”

Daisy gestured at Leo. “There. See? Exactly what I'm thinking. I would love to get to know him again. I'd love to know stories about him and my mother that Phil can't tell me, because he was their friend, not a fly on the wall for their whole relationship. But, sometimes, he just comes on a bit too strong and almost creepy?”

Her gaze moved over Leo's head, and her look of vague exasperation and confusion turned into a light smile. “Well, look who's back.”

Morse, to Leo's side, looked over, and Leo twisted in his seat, to see Grant walking their way, a folder in his hand. He didn't look surprised to see the two women at his desk, but he didn't look like he wanted them to stick around much longer. That was more a testament to the blunt expression on his face, than to Leo's ability to read people.

“Keeping him company?” Grant asked, moving around his desk and sitting down, putting the folder in front of him. To Leo, he said, “Sorry it took so long. I was making arrangements for you.”

“Arrangements?” Leo asked, confused and curious. Obviously, he knew that he would be here for a while yet tonight, but he wasn't sure he knew what Grant meant by his news that he had been making arrangements for him.

“I'll let you know, soon. Uh... Ladies?”

Daisy stood up, removing herself from Grant's desk, and smiled at Leo. “You stopped.”

He knew she meant the shivering, but he was glad she didn't say that out loud. He didn't want Grant asking questions about his state of mind. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

“No problem. It was my pleasure.”

Morse clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck with this one, and, Leo? I really hope things go better for you. You've seen more and had more scares than most people deserve in a day.” She gave him a bright smile, glanced at Grant, and then added. “I'll take a leaf out of his book. I've heard a rumour I'll be seeing more of you, so, if we cross paths again, you can call me Bobbi.”

She left, then, and Leo was left with his thoughts, and Grant, who was pulling his chair closer to the desk, and looking across it at Leo. Without Daisy and Bobbi there, Leo felt the weight of what had happened tonight coming back down on him. It was a miracle the shivers didn't start again, and, before he could linger on it for too long, Grant was talking, and pulling his attention.

“You know, obviously, that I need to ask you questions about what happened tonight. It has to go into the case log, because it's highly likely that this is related to what happened last night.”

“I don't think there's any way it _isn't_ related.” Leo said, quietly, and, to his relief, Grant nodded.

“That's you and I on the same page, then. So...” His voice was soft, and quiet, and gentle, which Leo appreciated. This was much different from the guy who had interrogated him last night, and Leo was thankful for it. That guy had been trying to see if there was a reason why he'd been where he was, and if he'd been involved. This guy was accepting that Leo had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it was haunting him. “Can you tell me what happened tonight?”

Leo nodded, taking a slow breath through his nose. Grant set a recorder on the desk between them, giving Leo a look clearly asking if it was okay. Leo gave him a thumbs up, and then started.

“I was having trouble sleeping, so, I figured I'd get up and try to find something to knock me out. I was in the bathroom – and that backs up onto the hallway by my apartment door – and I heard something. I thought maybe it was a drunk neighbour but they tend to be... They're, uh... So, they're louder, and this guy wasn't.”

Grant was being quiet, listening while Leo spoke. The folder in front of him was open, and he had a pen in hand, poised over blank paper. He was ready to jot down anything that Leo said that might be of use.

“So, I panicked. Grabbed my phone and hid in the closet. I was in there when he got in, and he looked around a bit. Didn't realize I was there, I guess he thought I must have gone out. Then he called someone.”

Grant eyebrows raised at that. “He called someone?”

“Y- Yeah.” Leo said, then cleared his throat, thinking back on what he'd heard while he was tucked in the closet. “Um... He told the person on the phone I wasn't there? And then...”

_I'll turn the place upside down. See if he had anything relating to the project here._

That was what the man in his apartment had said when he was signing off of his phone call. That was what he'd said before he'd started going through Leo's things, file case after file case, meticulous, obviously looking for something specific.

“He said he was going to see if there was anything in my apartment that might point them – uh, you guys, the police – to the person that did this. He was going through my closet in my room--”

“--Why there?”

Leo met Grant's eyes, then looked back over the other man's shoulder. This was easier if he didn't look Grant in the eye the whole time. The story flowed better, the memories came easier. “I keep all my file cases in my bedroom closet. It's the biggest one so it's easiest to put them there. I don't know what he thought, maybe I was working on a story about this already?” That was what Grant had suspected the night before; that he was going to make a story out of what he'd seen. “But... But, there's, I mean, I saw someone, so maybe they were trying to see if I knew who I saw. Or if I thought seeing that person was... was important.”

Grant nodded, tapping his pen against the paper. It was leaving little faint blue dots with every hit it made, and the sound of each tap echoing in the hollow ink chamber was setting Leo's nerves on edge.

“All right. Then?”

“Could you... Um, do you mind...?” Leo nodded at the pen, and Grant looked down, and then stilled his hand, laying the pen down and putting his palm over top of it. He gave Leo a look that clearly asked if that was better, and Leo relaxed, not even having realized that he'd tensed up. “Thanks. Uh, so... He started going through my stuff, and this was after I texted you...”

“Why did you text me?”

Leo looked at Grant across the desk, frowning. “I wasn't going to call 911 with him right there. He was, tops, ten feet away. He probably would have heard me. You were the only person...” Leo paused, thinking about it. He could have texted Jemma and gotten her to call the police, but there was slim chance she would have been awake. He could have opened up Facebook and put it there. That put him at risk. If the person who had hired that man to break into his apartment had seen it before the police got there, things could have gone sideways. “You were my only option. You gave me your direct number, and I... I trusted you'd be able to get there.”

It was the truth. Leo had put all of his trust in the ability of the detective sitting across from him to get to his apartment and help him – _save_ him – before the intruder found him. That wasn't entirely what had happened, though, and, suddenly, Leo knew that. In an instant, he realized that Grant hadn't been the one solely responsible for getting him out of that situation.

“But he was looking too fast, and I couldn't stay where I was, because he would see me. There's, uh, a hole. Like, in the closet? I hated it when I moved in, it's pretty big. I guess the people before me had kids, or a dog, or something, and they broke through this flimsy chipboard that's between the linen closet and the coat closet? I don't know why the landlady didn't make sure it was fixed before renting the apartment again. It's not visible but it kind of looks bad, you know, when someone sees it for the first... the first, uh, time.”

Leo was aware he was rambling. He was going on about the damn hole in his closet – which, now, he was thankful for – and Grant didn't need to know that, but Grant also hadn't cut him off. He was listening, waiting for Leo to naturally get to where he needed to be.

“I slipped out of the linen closet through that, into the coat closet. He was going through stuff and he was going to get there eventually. My plan was to sneak out of the coat closet, and then out of the apartment, and get downstairs and wait for you and hopefully he'd still be in there but... But...”

“You panicked?”

Grant's tone wasn't reprimanding, it wasn't accusatory. It wasn't judgmental. It was a question, and an understanding. He seemed to know that what Leo had been going through had made him jumpy, and he wasn't acting like he didn't understand why Leo had panicked.

“Yeah.” Leo answered, the word coming out like a sigh of relief, because Grant seemed to get what had happened. I was almost out of the coat closet, and I heard him, uh, the closet door? It squeaked. The one in my bedroom, my clothes closet.” Grant nodded, now that Leo had defined exactly which closet it had been. “I freaked out. Shoved the door open, ran. I couldn't wait for the elevator, so I went to the stairwell, and I thought if I went up, it would work out, but he didn't... I don't think he bought it. Well, I know he didn't. I wasn't being quiet enough, he knew I went up.

“I ran down that hall, the floor above me, and I shoved open the middle staircase door and then hid in the laundry room. He bought it, and I guess he thought... Maybe he thought I went down that staircase and back to my apartment? That's what I should have done.”

Grant shook his head. “He broke into your apartment once, and you don't know what he had on him. There's a good chance he could have gotten in again, or caught up to you before you locked your door.” Leaning back, he rubbed a hand over his chin. “So, I assume that was shortly before you let me know where you were.”

Leo nodded. “Uh... How did you get in, anyway?”

“Oh,” Grant smiled. “Drunk neighbour. Invited me in with him. You've got really good security in that building.” His words were dripping with sarcasm, and Leo could tell why. If that drunk had let Grant in, it was likely someone else had let the man who'd broken into his apartment in, too. Leo had been clinging to the idea that the man had picked that lock, too, but that was a long shot. “You didn't get a look at this guy at all, did you?”

Leo shook his head. “No. I was in the closet and then running. I didn't slow down or look back.”

“Could you describe his voice?”

That, Leo thought about for a moment. “No accent. Well... No, not really. Midwestern? But this is a Midwestern region. I'm the odd one out, here.” The corner of Grant's mouth twitched in a small smile. “Scottish accents aren't so common around here. Or English, really. Jemma and I tend to stand out. But this man... I mean, potentially I could pick his voice out of a group, but it was fairly non-descript.”

“Didn't sound young? Old?”

“Oh, no.” Leo shook his head. “Probably around our age?”

Grant was writing this down, as Leo spoke. “You didn't see him at all?”

“No. Sorry.”

Finishing what he was writing, Grant set the pen down again, and looked across the desk at Leo. “You know, what you did, you saved yourself. You did a good job. It would have helped me out if you'd seen him, but I get why you weren't going looking. Now, the reason I asked if you saw him, is because the officers at your building called me about twenty minutes ago. One of your neighbours, on your floor, wanted to complain about a man she'd never seen on the floor before, going up and down the stairwell, and going into your apartment. She said he took off just before I got up there with them. If it's who I'm thinking of... Mid to late forties, brown hair, long? Uh, she was wearing a green plaid bathrobe but I don't know if you know your neighbours that well?”

Leo thought about it, flicking through his mental memory of his neighbours. He wasn't close with many of them, but there were a few, on that floor, that he'd talked to, on occasion. “It _sounds_ like Audrey. She's in 3E.”

“Yeah.” Grant nodded once Leo said the apartment number. “That's the one. Anyway, she described a man, late 30s, brown hair, six foot, maybe 180-200 pounds... I was hoping that there was a chance you could collaborate that description.”

Not that Leo regretted that he hadn't stopped to get a good look at the man who was after him, but he wished that he could say with some certainty that the description fit what he suspected had been the individual in pursuit.”I can't, but, if he was in my apartment... Doesn't that kind of tell you..?”

“Oh, there's no doubt that the man she described is the guy who was in your apartment. It would help to have more details on him, but we can go with this, for now.”

Grant closed the folder on the desk in front of him, and set the pen on top. That was that, the interview is over. It hadn't been nearly as difficult as Leo had been anticipating, and for that, he was glad. It was a relief to have it over with, but, now that it was, all he could linger on was the reality that he needed to go back to an apartment that had been broken into, and gone through, while he'd barely escaped. It wasn't reassuring, and it didn't make him feel settled.

He hated that. He worked hard to keep up his rent payments, and to keep his apartment _his_ space. No matter what else happened in his life, his apartment was always going to be a place where he could go and be entirely in his element. It was a safe haven, and he needn't worry about things when he was there. Now, it had been violated, and the idea of going back there and trying to sleep seemed even more impossible than before.

His best course of action would be to call Jemma. She would be willing to put him up for a few days, until the feeling of being horrified to be in his apartment, alone, passed. He would have to call her, of course, and once again it was edging early morning hours – nearly two – but she would do that. She was a good friend. His best friend.

He was going to owe her a _lot_ when this was over.

“You're free to go. I wouldn't rush to get here in the morning, but that won't matter. I'll come pick you up instead, around 10, or 11.” Grant said. “That being said...”

Leo didn't like this. He didn't want to go back to his apartment alone.

“The arrangements I mentioned earlier are for a police detail. You're going to have someone guarding your apartment until I call them off. They won't necessarily be there all the time. If you're with me, they'll be free to go home, take breaks. But they will be staying at your apartment, in case this guy comes back. You were framed, and then someone broke in, I assume with intent to kill.”

Leo didn't like the sound of that.

“So, until further notice, I will have your apartment protected. They'll be plainclothes officers. Are you all right with this?”

“This is... uh...”

To be honest, this made Leo feel better about going back to his apartment. He was going to have police guards, which was different, but reassuring. He'd be able to go home, and go about his life, and not worry that once he passed out, someone was going to sneak in and kill him.

“Thank you.”

That seemed the appropriate answer to what Grant was offering him. It summed everything up without Leo going into an explanation for just _why_ he appreciated this. Grant was a detective, and he had to have gotten where he was on the force with experience. He probably knew, without being told, that Leo hadn't felt safe going home to his apartment.

He would still have to tidy up the mess that the man had made of his file cases, but that was relatively small, compared to needing to abandon his home for a while.

“Not a problem. The officers are actually going to take you home, tonight. The guys I left at your building will head out, then. There's only two of them left, anyway. The ones that stayed with you while I showed the others your apartment left after taking Ms. Nathan – Audrey's – statement.” Grant stood up, inviting Leo to do the same. When he did, Grant frowned at his chest, suddenly realizing what he was wearing.

“Daisy give you that?”

Leo looked down at the sweatshirt. “Yeah. She said I looked cold.” When he looked back up, Grant was nodding, and turning away.

“They're waiting for you out front. Their names are Alphonso Mackenzie and Joey Gutierrez. Joey's relatively new, but he's Mack's – that's what we call Officer Mackenzie, he prefers it – rookie. They're partners, really good guys. I think you'll get along with them.” He led the way down the stairs, and into the front lobby, where two men were waiting. “Not that you're required to, but I'm sure it'll help.”

One of the men waiting, a tall, muscular black man, would definitely deter Leo, if he was thinking about breaking into a place. He was taller than Grant, with a shaved head and carefully shaped facial hair. The other man, who Leo suspected was Gutierrez, was shorter than Grant, but not by much. His hair was dark brown, and he, too, had facial hair that was carefully shaped. Joey was also slighter than both Mack and the detective, but he still wasn't someone that Leo would think good to challenge in a bar fight.

Both men were wearing jeans and t-shirts under jackets. Mack's was dark green canvas, while Joey's was leather. They looked like the kind of guys you would find in a chop shop, or leaving a construction site. Leo supposed that was the point of them being plainclothes. They wouldn't stick out to Leo's neighbours, or anyone else watching his apartment.

“Gentlemen.” Grant greeted.

“Grant.”

“Detective Ward.”

Mack greeted Grant with firm handshake, and Joey followed suit, before Grant directed their attention to Leo, who had hung back a bit.

“This is Leo Fitz, the man you'll be watching the apartment of. Leo, this is Mack.” He pointed to the bigger man. “And Joey.”

“Good to meet you.” Mack greeted, taking Leo's hand in a handshake that Leo didn't think he'd ever experience replicated. It was firm enough that he felt like he needed to attempt to crush Mack's hand just to make sure his own handshake didn't feel like a dead fish.

“Yeah, likewise, likewise.” Joey said, stepping up. His handshake made Leo feel much less inadequate. It was the handshake of a normal person, and Joey seemed very much that. He was smiling, friendly and warm, and it soothed Leo a lot. These were guys he could, at least, talk to, so it wasn't like he was going to have trolls lumbering around his apartment with no semblance of personality.

“Good to meet you both, too. Thanks for...” Leo shrugged, not sure how to put it. “Well, it's putting my mind at ease.”

Mack laughed. “Not a problem, man, we're happy to do it.” Turning to Grant, he added, “You're coming around...?”

“10-ish?” Grant said, his tone making it sound like he was still thinking about it. “Give him time to sleep before I start taking him around to interviews and scenes with me.”

“Sounds good. We'll let you in when you call, then.” Mack turned back to Leo, and nodded. “You ready to hit the road?”

“Man, I bet you're ready to sleep now, huh? Been a long day for you.”

Leo nodded at what Joey said. “That it has. I'd be happy to get back to bed now.”

He moved to follow Mack and Joey, heading for the parkade exit, but before he went too far, he turned back to Grant. Moving in closer, so that he could speak quietly without fear of being overheard, he met the other man's eyes.

“Thank you. For earlier, and for this, and for involving me in this.”

Grant smiled. “You won't be thanking me when I've picked you up for what we got to get done later today, but you're welcome.”

 

 

 

Grant had not been wrong when he'd said that Leo would get along well with Joey and Mack. They were kind, personable people, and Leo could understand how anyone would be immediately drawn to them. It was hard not to be.

Mack gave off the aura of the protective big brother, and while that might be annoying, Leo appreciated it a lot when he insisted on getting on and off the elevator first, and on entering the apartment with Leo sandwiched between himself and Joey. Even though it wasn't his apartment, he asked Leo if he wanted anything to eat, or a drink, before he crashed.

While Leo was in the kitchen with Mack, Joey made his way to Leo's bedroom, and when he reemerged, it was with the announcement that he had tidied up the mess that had been left with the file cases.

“I don't know if you have a system. You probably do. But, they're stacked and the door is closed, so that's one less thing for you to worry about before you go to bed.”

Leo was amazed. He had been expecting that these two would amuse themselves for a few hours while he slept. They had brought bags, each of them, and it was likely there were books and things in there. Leo had also made it known that he would sleep just fine if they wanted to watch something. Instead, they were making him feel more at ease in his own home, and making him feel comfortable with the two of them there. It was a surprise, but a pleasant one.

“Thanks a lot for this, guys. I'll try to get some more sleep, now but, like I said. Help yourselves to anything, all right?”

“You just worry about getting sleep.” Mack said, ushering him off to his bed. We'll be just fine.”

And Leo was sure they would be. With them here, he would be, too, but there was one thing he needed to amend.

It was one thing to have a studio apartment when you lived on your own. It was another to have a studio apartment when two officers you liked, but still, barely knew, were in your apartment and there was nothing blocking them from seeing you passed out cold in bed. Aside from that, Leo felt like the sight of him asleep would stop Mack and Joey from feeling relaxed. Obviously he didn't want them to be too relaxed, considering they were there to protect him from the chance of someone trying to break in again, but he wanted them to feel like they could have lights on, and move around, and talk, without having to worry about disturbing him.

“I'm just gonna...”

Leo opened the linen closet door, and swung it out until it stopped. It wasn't ideal, but it served as some form of blockade. They could still get around it, and this door was quiet when it moved, so they wouldn't be trapped from using the bathroom if they needed.

Leo told them that, and they laughed. Mack flashed him a thumbs up, and Joey said they would be fine, and he didn't need to worry about them, really.

With that in mind, Leo stripped out of the sweatshirt Daisy had given him, and the trackpants he'd been lent by Grant, folding both carefully and setting them at the foot of his bed.

Then he climbed back under the covers, shifting until he was huddled in the middle of the bed. His phone he set on the bedspread, within reaching distance if it went off. With the covers pulled up to his shoulder, he laid his head on the pillows, closed his eyes, and hoped sleep would come easy.

And it did, because the next thing Leo knew, he was rolling over in sunlight, and could hear the deep rumble of Mack's voice in the other room.

He felt rested, much more than he'd thought he was going to be, and that was a relief. When he rolled back over and pulled up his phone, he noticed that he'd missed a few messages. One was from Jemma, asking how he'd slept, and then another saying he must still be sleeping, and she was glad. Leo would have to tell her what had happened last night, but he'd make sure to preface it with an explanation that he had bodyguards assigned to him already.

The next message was from Grant, and it said that Leo didn't need to rush, he could take his time, that Grant would be a little bit later than 10, probably 1030.

The time on Leo's phone read 10:08 AM.

“Ah, shit.”

Leo rolled over, extracting himself from the sheets, and getting to his feet. The conversation in the other room had halted, and after what seemed like a long few seconds, Joey called “Morning!”

Was it Leo's imagination, or did he sound caught?

It was probably because the two of them had been discussing things that civilians didn't need to know about, and Joey was hoping Leo hadn't heard. That, or they had been discussing another officer's drama, for instance, Daisy's. That wouldn't have been much of a surprise to Leo, either. Just because they were cops didn't mean they didn't gossip.

“Morning!” He called back. “Um... Do either of you need to use the bathroom? I'm just going to shower quick and get ready.”

“No, it's all yours.” Mack called back, and Leo nodded, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door firmly.

Then he opened it and walked back out, opening his closet to get clothes. This was the problem with living alone. There may have been a door block _most_ of what the officers could see, but it didn't block _everything_ , and Leo didn't much fancy walking around in a towel with men he hardly knew in the apartment who might catch a glimpse. With Jemma, that wasn't an issue. With Mack and Joey? Leo would adhere to societal norms.

Once he'd picked out a pair of jeans, shirt, and cardigan for the day, he shut himself firmly in the bathroom again, and started the water.

This was going to be a very different kind of day for him. Leo may not know what Grant had on the docket, but he knew that much. He was going to be helping to investigate a murder, which he had admittedly never done before. Add into that that he was also going to be helping to investigate, in part, the break-in at his own apartment, and this could easily be chalked up as a plethora of experiences Leo had not had before.

Part of him was excited, but, as he stood under the warm spray in the shower, he had to admit that there was part of him that was also terrified. Yes, he was protected. Mack and Joey were here, and if he wasn't here, he would, more than likely, be with Grant, or be in a public space. He wasn't going to make the mistake of going anywhere after dark, alone, anymore. Not until this was settled. Still, that didn't mean that there were not parts of this that were terrifying. The murder itself, the way it had been done, and to who. The fact that someone had been in his apartment to kill him and, barring that, find out information on the project. That weapon, which was weighing heavy in his memory.

Leo shuddered, despite the hot water, and scrubbed at his hair.

There was no reason to get worked up over things, not right now.

He finished showering relatively quickly, and toweled down in the bathroom before getting dressed. Peering at himself in the damp mirror while he brushed his teeth, he admitted he could have used a shave, but it would be fine for now. It was barely more stubble than he usually sported, and he doubted that Grant had been expecting him to shave for a day of investigation.

Once he emerged from the bathroom, and closed the linen closet door, he found Mack and Joey enjoying breakfast out of a large paper bag emblazoned with the McDonald's logo.

He also noticed that Grant was doing the same, an egg McMuffin in hand while he looked at something on his phone. At the sound of the linen closet door closing, they all looked over, and Joey smiled.

“Grant brought breakfast.”

“And he's earlier than he said he'd be.” Leo said, without thinking.

Grant's eyebrows raised. “I figured they'd take longer with the food. Don't worry about rushing, our first appointment isn't until 11:30. Earliest the transit commission could bring in someone to escort us to look at the footage from the subways.” Reaching into the bag, he pulled out another egg McMuffin, and tossed it to Leo, who caught it despite being surprised that it was being thrown to him. “I didn't know what you liked, so I got bacon. Figured, everyone likes bacon.” Grant paused, and glanced at Joey and Mack.

“You're not a vegan, are you?” Mack asked.

Leo laughed. “Uh, no. I'm very much a meat-eater, if that's what you're all worried about. Don't be. And thank you, I'm starving.” He unwrapped the breakfast sandwich, biting into it and chewing while Grant continued.

“The CCTV footage came in this morning, so I've reviewed that. The guy you saw definitely takes a roundabout way to get away from Terrace. Ends up getting on the Green line at Mavis, thirty four minutes after he left you.” Leo frowned. The Mavis terminal was just down one of the cross streets from where he'd found Sergeant Sitwell's body. It shouldn't have taken that long for the man to get there. “I need the subway footage to get any further. If we can see when he gets on that train, we can check the other stations to see if we can find out where he went after that.”

Grant picked up a coffee cup from Leo's small table, taking a sip. Mack picked up for him from there.

“You guys are damn lucky he got on when he did. Two hours earlier, or four hours later, and the red and yellow lines would have been running, too.”

Leo was simply observing, absorbing all of this while they talked, and Grant agreed that it was lucky as hell. It was something that, apparently, Grant hadn't even thought of, until he'd called to make the request to view the footage.

“After that, we'll see. I have to do some looking into Sitwell. No one knows why he would have been around there that night. He was off duty, too, so it wasn't like he was working on a case, or had a reason to be showing someone his badge...” Grant met Leo's eyes, and it was obvious that he knew he didn't need to go any further. Leo remembered all too well the sight of the officer, laying on the ground in his own blood, with his badge on his chest.

“Full day, then.” Joey commented. “You'll see where that takes you?”

“Mhmm.” Grant had the last of his sandwich in his mouth, but when he swallowed, he continued. “I want to request CCTV footage from here, too. There's only two cameras in this area but maybe one of them saw something of that guy from last night.”

This was new territory for Leo. While he had, in the past been able to _attempt_ to get access to these sorts of things, without the backing of a major network or, in this case, the police, he hadn't been able to get his foot in the door. His articles and stories hadn't suffered for it. No, far from that, he'd done just fine without the additional footage, but this was still a big deal for him.

“So.” Leo said. “Transit commision. More requests for CCTV footage from here and wherever this guy come up at. Review CCTV footage for Sitwell and follow up on why he was there.” He looked from Grant to Joey and Mack, and back. “That's right, yeah?”

Grant nodded. “Yeah, that's about it. We'll see where it goes from there and, to be honest, I'm going to have to crash about 8 tonight or so, but we've got 9 hours. We'll get a lot done.” He nodded at Leo. “You ready to go?”

“Uh.” Leo looked at the sandwich in his hand, and then shoved what was left of it in his mouth, nodding vigorously. Mack laughed as he and Joey got up, picking up their bags and the McDonald's bag with them.

“I don't think he meant you needed to shovel your food down. There's another one in here, for you. Pretty sure you can take it for the road.”

Leo looked at Grant, who nodded, seeming a little surprised that Leo had finished off his sandwich so quickly. Shrugging, Leo walked back into his room to get his bag that he usually took with him on investigations. It was home to his notebooks, as well as a small point and shoot camera, a handful of pens, a voice recorder, and other things that he might need for gathering information for a story. He slung it over his shoulder and walked back into the living room, joining the others at the door.

“We'll meet you back... here? At 7?”

“That sounds good.” Grant said, in answer to Mack. “I'll drop him off and come pick him up...” Leo looked up from lacing his shoes, wondering how much sleep Grant was going to allow him. “I don't know. Probably 3 or 4. I'll decide once I bring him back. That work for you?”

If Leo hadn't been looking up, he wouldn't have had any idea that Grant was talking to him, rather than the two officers who had been his security detail the night before. “Uh, yeah, sure. Works fine for me.” Leo stood up, and took the second sandwich Joey was offering him, before following the three men into the hallway. They waited, patiently, while Leo locked up. There were some marks in the metal around his keyhole. He hadn't noticed them the night before, but he also hadn't been looking to see the damage. He'd just wanted to get in and to bed.

Seeing them now was a stark reminder of how close he'd come, last night.

Once his door was locked, they took the elevator down to the lobby, and Leo went with Grant to his car, while Joey and Mack left in Mack's, with promises that they'd see each other later that day. While he got comfortable in Grant's car, Leo couldn't help thinking about the fact that the majority of his time around Mack and Joey would be spent sleeping. They were to be with him whenever Grant wasn't there, but if Grant kept up a routine of dropping him off and picking him up with just enough time for him to get decent sleep, they weren't going to be spending much time getting to know each other.

That was a bit of a let down, because Leo already liked them, and he wouldn't have been opposed to getting to know the two of them better. Maybe he would see what he could do about spending some time here and there getting to chat with them more. There was something about the two of them that just made Leo feel settled. If that was bleed over from the fact that they were, essentially, his bodyguards, keeping all-comers away, then so be it, but Leo suspected it might just be more than that. They were both warm and approachable people, and while he probably _shouldn't_ make friends with the men tasked to guard his life, who would move on once this was over, they were going to be in his apartment whenever he was sleeping. Leo would just feel better if they were all friends.

Or at least friend _ly_.

“You ever been to the transit commission offices?” Grant asked while the car pulled out of the spot that he'd parked it in. As they drove by Mack's car, Leo looked over to wave goodbye, but quickly put his hand down, and faced forward.

He couldn't have just seen what he thought he did, did he? Not that he had a problem with it, if he had, but it didn't seem like something that fit with everything else Leo had experienced so far.

A few seconds passed and Grant cleared his throat, causing Leo to look over.

Right. He'd asked him a question.

“Um, no, no, I haven't been. I've... Well, no, that's not true.” Now that he thought about it, that was a lie. He had been there, a little over a year ago. “I did a story about that guy that kept protesting on the tracks at the Douglas station. I went by there to get an official quote from someone, but I can't say that I've ever been as far in as we're going to go today.”

Grant's eyes were on the road while he changed lanes and headed for the highway on-ramp, but he was smiling. “I was wondering if you were about to lie to me.”

Leo folded his arms, leaning back in his seat. “Uh, no. When you deal with as many stories as I do, you tend to forget some that might have shown up when the detective handling a murder-slash-intruding case researched you.”

To his surprise, Grant snorted. “All right, I shouldn't have said _lied_ , and you've got a point. You do write a _lot_. I knew about the stories you'd done on the force, obviously, and some of the stuff about the local and state government. I just hadn't realized how much _more_ you did. Daisy was showing me the full list this morning.”

He looked over at Leo for a second, and Leo braced for it. With the career he'd had in writing stories, there were a few that weren't exactly ones he was exceptionally proud of. Grant could mention any one of them, any second now, and Leo would have to try not to let him see his embarrassment while he waved it off.

“You did a whole series of stories about the Kitty Princess Pageant?”

All the bracing in the world couldn't prepare Leo for that, and he groaned, covering his face with both hands. “I needed the money! I was trying to get together enough for first and last month's at this place, and I wasn't doing so hot. The pageant committee and the local papers were wiling to pay a _lot_ for me to do pieces on every contestant and their owners, and every day of the pageant, and... You didn't _read_ it, did you? Because, detective, that says more about you than it does about me.”

Grant shook his head, laughing quietly at that, and Leo couldn't help but feel a bit smug. This was the same jerk who had interrogated him and seemed so cold and put off by the journalist. He had been ready to shut Leo down in the parkade, but now he was laughing and shooting the shit with Leo, bringing him along on his investigation.

This was another one that Leo wanted to make friends with. Not just for his own comfort, given the time he was going to be spending with Grant, but because there was something about Grant, like Mack and Joey, that drew him in, and it was a little bit stronger. They were sharing the bulk of this case and, in some way, that made them brothers.

“No, I didn't read it. Should I? Am I missing out on some pertinent details of Fluffykins' life?”

Leo laughed, relaxing in his seat while Grant expertly weaved them through traffic on the highway, heading for the inner city. “Nothing except that her owner paints her toenails a different colour every month.”

“What?” Grant looked over at Leo for a second, and then back at the road, but it had been enough for Leo to see his look of disbelief. “First of all, there was a contestant named _Fluffykins_ '? Second of all...” He slipped them into the gap between two minivans, and into the next lane over from that, shooting up the highway past them. “What are your feelings on feline nail art?”

Leo couldn't help laughing again. If this is how things would be, maybe this partnership wouldn't be so bad. Yes, they were investigating a murder, and Leo was stuck in the thick of it. The fact was that those things would absolutely be less terrible to deal with, knowing that he and Grant could laugh about things like Leo's very brief career as a feline beauty pageant correspondent.

Grant was laughing, too, and Leo would be happy to soak that up for now. Depending on what they found today, things might not be so carefree later on. He might as well take this tone and run with it while they had the chance. “Just shut up and drive, detective.”

“Am I supposed to take that as you being _pro_ feline nail art?”

“What?” Leo laughed. “You know what? You take that _however_ you want to take it.”

 

 

 

The transit commission main building wasn't huge by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn't small, either. Leo's apartment building had it dwarfed in height, but the land area that the building covered would have fit at least six of it. The last time he was here, Leo remembered being a little intimidated by the sheer size of the place. Now, being here with Grant, who clearly knew exactly what he wanted and where to go to get it, Leo didn't feel any trepidation. He walked along at Grant's side, doing his best to make it look like he belonged there – and he did. He was a police consultant, he was helping with this investigation, and he absolutely belonged in that building, at that moment, with Detective Ward.

When they'd gotten out of the car, Grant had handed him a plastic badge that hung from a metal clip. It wasn't anything special, Grant said, but it was emblazoned with the police department's crest, and the words “INVESTIGATIVE CONSULTANT” below his full name. That was fairly impressive, and Leo had barely stopped himself from asking if he got to keep it when the investigation was over. There was a magnetic strip on the rear which, Grant explained, would get Leo in and out of certain areas of the station, but only between certain hours. That was, his badge only activated when Grant was punched in and was on the clock.

That badge was hanging from his shirt pocket now, bouncing gently against his chest with every step that he took. Grant led them past a security gate that had been opened at the flash of his badge, then down a long series of corridors, and up a flight of stairs, until Leo was sure he wouldn't be able to find his way out of this place _without_ Grant. Then it was down another hallway, that ended in a door labeled “VIDEO SURVEILLANCE RECORDS – SOUTH CITY”.

“The ones for the northern side of the city are at the end of the next hallway.” Grant said, rapping his knuckles against the door. “And then east and west are on the other side. They dedicate whole rooms to these systems, just because the amount that they take in over the course of a day is so hefty.”

The sound of a lock turning sounded on the other side of the door, and it opened revealing a short man with a thick head of curly blonde hair. He introduced himself as Robert, and explained that he was the head of the Surveillance sector of the transit commission. He led them over to a bay of computer monitors, and from the date displayed on the bottom right hand corners, Leo could see that it was the night he'd found Sitwell. Robert invited them to have a seat, and began to explain the controls, but Leo was a step ahead of him, fascinated already by the monitors and what they might tell him about that night, and the man who had left the office building just shortly before him.

“I see you've got a hang of this system already!” Robert commented, and if he sounded a little put out, Leo didn't care. He was too busy having located the Mavis terminal cameras, and rewinding them to one o'clock that morning. It would be some time before the man would arrive, and Leo remembered that Grant had said that, but he wanted to watch, and make sure they didn't miss something. It was obvious that this man wasn't working alone, and Leo didn't fancy getting jumped again without having at least one or two paces more on these guys.

“He's an engineer.” Leo heard Grant say, by way of explanation, and then, “I really appreciate you letting us do this, Bob. I'll give you a shout if we need anything or get stuck?”

Leo chanced glancing over, then. They weren't the only ones in the room. There were a half dozen operators in here, and when Leo glanced, they all looked away and back at their screens. He would have thought it was a regular occurrence for the police to come to the transit commission for things like this, but perhaps it wasn't as regular as he thought.

Bob looked a little put out, like maybe he had been hoping to be involved in this investigation. He didn't linger, though, and nodded to Grant, saying, “Yes, please, if you need anything...” before he shuffled away.

Leo turned back to the screen, watching as one or two people crossed the monitors. It was late, and there wasn't a whole lot of traffic, even on the only subway line that ran all day and night in the city. It wasn't going to be difficult for them to see when this man came into shot.

“I think you made him feel a little inferior.” Grant said, quietly, and Leo shifted over, allowing him the room to move forward. They were seated in rolling chairs, and hunched over like this, looking up at the black and white screens, Leo couldn't help but feel a little important. Obviously he was somewhere approaching important, given the clearance, and the badge, but being here, doing this, made it feel all the more real.

“I wasn't trying to do that.” Leo replied, just as quiet. “But I know this system, and I wasn't going to wait for him to do all the work for us when I could do it in a minute.” He looked over at Grant. “Expedient and resourceful. Seemed the best option.”

Grant met his eyes, and nodded, looking back at the monitors. “I'm not arguing with you. I'd rather get this over with quickly. There's a lot more on our list for today.”

Leo knew that, and, maybe it was wrong, but he was excited about nearly all of it. It was investigative, and it would keep him busy, and it just about promised to keep him from thinking too long about everything that had gone on lately. The longer his brain was occupied, the better it was for everyone.

Watching these monitors was certainly keeping his mind occupied, and it didn't feel like long before he was pointing, tapping the screen. “There. That's him, that's the guy.”

Seeing this man now, Leo wished he'd thought his presence odder. He should have moved in front of him, he should have called after him, tried to see his face, tried to figure him out. If he had, he would have been able to provide the police with a detailed description of what he looked like, and they may have already tracked this guy down. Now, all they had to rely on was the security cameras, watching while he watched along the platform. He seemed almost impatient, pacing back and forth nearly at the edge. There was only one other person waiting for the train, a young woman who seemed too engrossed in her phone to bother with the man pacing in front of her.

Grant was very interested in her, however.

“She's about the right age for a student. If she has a transit pass, she would've had to scan it to get past the turnstiles. We can find out her name downstairs, and contact her later.” He muttered, for only Leo to hear. Leo nodded, peering at her.

“I guess that would work, wouldn't it? There's only been four other people on that platform since she got there. If she's got a transit pass, she'll probably be the only one after 1AM.” Leo doubted that this man had a transit pass. It left an electronic trail every time you swiped it to get into the terminals. If he'd just murdered a cop, he didn't want any electronic trail leading back to him.

The train pulled up at 1:40 AM, just as it was supposed to, and their guy got on, the girl behind him. This was where it got tricky. They'd worked out that he was on the southbound train, which meant that there were only six stops before the Green Line train hit the end of its run. The thing was, they needed to watch the footage of disembarkment from that exact train at every stop along the way, all the way down the train. Meticulously, Leo pulled up the footage and they sat through it, watching car by car as the doors opened and let people off. Most of the time, no one got off the train. The girl they'd seen at the terminal with their man got off two stops later.

They were on the fourth stop when Leo dared to say it. “You think he got off at the end of the line?”

“It's possible.”

“You think he didn't get off at all?”

Grant's jaw clenched in obvious annoyance, but he didn't take his eyes off the screen. “I fucking hope not, or we're going to be sitting here for a long time.”

The train conductors were supposed to tell anyone left on the train at the last stop that it was the last stop. Particularly on these late night runs. The chance that a passenger fell asleep and missed their stop was all too real, and Leo knew that more often than not, when those people were told it was the end of the line, they said they'd missed their stop, and ended up riding the train back however long it was to home.

If this man was shrewd, at all, and Leo suspected he was, he could have played like one of those people, and stayed on the train until a stop that Leo and Grant had not anticipated. That would certainly slow them down, and Leo was beginning to lament that taking that action was exactly what the suspect had done, when, finally, at the fifth stop, he came out of the train, and walked down the platform towards the camera. He was still wearing his hat, so it was still hard to see his face, but, from what Leo could make out, he was definitely a middle aged man, and it looked like he had dark hair that fell in front of his face somewhat, further obscuring him from view.

“What station's that?” Grant asked, pulling out his notebook.

“Pinehurst.” Leo answered, well aware of how the subway line worked in this city. “That's Pinehurst. 2:07 AM.”

“Perfect.” Grant said, smirking as he tucked the notebook back away. “That's perfect. I'm going to call over to the CCTV offices, get them to compile footage from _that_ area, and we'll see what we can see.” He stood up, and Leo followed suit, feeling pretty damn proud of himself. He'd been able to help Grant find out where this guy had gone, now they just needed to see where he walked to from here. Leo was hoping that he lived in that area. Not only was it not all that far from the station, but if their suspect actually lived there, it would make it much easier for the police to canvas the neighbourhood, locate and arrest him.

Leo would sleep easier when this guy was in custody, that much was for sure.

They thanked Robert for his help, and after asking him to forward a copy of what they'd viewed to the station, Grant said they would show themselves out. Mostly, it was Grant showing Leo out. While the reactions of the people manning the stations in that room had seemed like they didn't see a whole lot of police around here, Grant's behaviour said otherwise. He seemed to know this building like the back of his hand, and he didn't hesitate or seem unsure about any twist or turn, didn't pause at any corner. Leo suspected that he had probably been here for a few other cases, and he'd like to ask about them, but he was unsure what kind of answer Grant would be able to give. The details of public cases were just that: public. But if Grant had cases that had not yet been wrapped up, in the public eye, that had required use of these facilities, he would more than likely be less generous about answering his question.

“Don't forget.” Leo reminded him, as they exited into the main atrium. “You wanted to ask about that card swipe.”

Grant stopped and turned, muttering, “right, thanks” as he did, causing Leo to pivot to follow after him. They went down another long hallway, to a room with a booth manned with a window. Grant rapped on the glass, and they waited a second until a woman came to the window. Leo was almost shocked at the change that came over Grant, then. It had taken some time, that was for sure, for Grant to warm up to him, but with this woman he immediately appeared charming and open and warm, and it was only five minutes before they were leaving with a copy of everyone who had swiped their transit pass between 1 and 2 AM at the Mavis Terminal.

Leo had the presence of mind to keep his questions to himself until they were outside the building. Once they were striding across the parking lot, Leo having to hurry to keep up with Grant's longer legs, he couldn't wait.

“What the _hell_ was that?”

Grant looked over at him, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“That.” Leo said, emphatically, gesturing back the way they'd came. “With that woman, at the window, and the sweetness, and you basically batting your eyelashes at her.”

“Oh.” Grant said, the situation dawning on him now. “Oh, _that_. Right. That's just a tactic.”

“A manipulation tactic.” Leo clarified. “What are you, an ex-spy?”

Grant laughed at that, digging in his jacket pocket for his keys. “No, I'm not a spy. You just learn, in this job, that sometimes it makes things a lot faster if you bat your eyelashes and smile a lot. Show off those pearly whites, and you tend to get places.”

Leo shook his head, walking around to the passenger side of Grant's car as he pressed the button to unlock it. “You're devious, is what you are.”

“Devious gets the cases solved.” Grant answered, dropping into his seat. He folded the list up, and handed it to Leo. “And if devious gets the cases solved, then I guess I'll be devious.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

The footage they would need to check on Sitwell was back at the station, which wasn't far from where they were now. Regardless of that, however, Leo had to make a phone call. It was after noon, now, and he hadn't replied to Jemma's messages. She had sent him one while they were in the transit building that had asked him to call if he could, as soon as possible. Due to the fact that Jemma worked for a pharmaceutical company, her schedule wasn't nearly as free and open as Leo's and, for that reason, Leo knew that if she was asking him to call her, she was worried.

Grant said he didn't mind, so while they made their way through the streets towards the station, Leo called Jemma, and waited while the phone rang once... Twice...

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jemma...”

“Good, it is you. Did you really sleep this late? I know you were exhausted, but I didn't think you would be able to keep that up. And I thought that you were going to start working with that detective today. Is he letting you consult from home? I doubt that. Did you sleep through when you were supposed to go meet up with him?”

Jemma's barrage of questions reminded Leo of how much had happened since the last time they'd spoken. It hadn't really been all that long, not at all, but she had missed a lot. Things that she needed to be filled in on, no matter how much Leo was dreading her anger at not being told sooner.

And she was going to be angry. Part of being as close at they were, almost siblings, was that they both had to deal with the other's annoyance, anger and wrath when they did something stupid, hurtful or neglectful.

Leo had managed to commit all three. Stupid, at least, from where Jemma would be standing, because he had involved himself in the investigation. Hurtful, because he hadn't told Jemma all the details, and it had been more than twelve hours since he and Grant had made their agreement. Not only that, but he hadn't told her about the intruder at his apartment yet, either, and that was going to upset her. Neglectful, because, well. He'd neglected to tell her, his best friend, that he'd put his life in the hands of a stranger, and he'd barely escaped his own apartment the night before.

But there was no getting around it. He had to tell her. With a glance at Grant, Leo began the full details of his impromptu meeting with Grant at the parkade the night before. She wasn't thrilled, as he'd suspected, that he was working with the detective on this, because it put him into a situation where he might be in danger. She understood, though, why he'd decided to do it, but not why he hadn't given her all the details beforehand. She had known that he was consulting, and had seen it as obsessive, but had at least hoped he would only be consulting from the station. She could do little about it, now, and she knew that, but didn't Leo think it was a little dangerous?

That seemed like as good a time as any to tell her the rest of the things he needed to tell her.

He started by telling her he was okay, and that was the important part. Her silence had made it obvious that she was not looking forward to what was coming, and multiple times during his explanation, he thought he heard her working to keep from exploding.

“So, I had two officers who are with me at my apartment when Detective Ward isn't. No one is going to try anything with two officers there, trust me, especially not with how impressive the one is. He's huge, Jemma. I'm safe, now, and I'm actually with the detective. We're heading over to the station to very safely look through footage. So...” He paused, listening to her breathing on the other end of the line. “Jemma... Are you crying?”

“Of course I'm crying!”

Leo shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. He and Jemma had been close since they were kids, and had bonded over being geniuses, and foreign geniuses at that. Jemma's accent had been a boon for her; everyone had thought he made her sound very, very intelligent, and very, very cool. Leo's, however, had made it difficult for some of the children to understand him, and there was the odd substitute who couldn't work through what he was saying fast enough. They had bonded over that, and over the fact that they had been moved far, far ahead in their grade levels, because they were simply excelling at everything.

They had been close since they were very young and, Leo supposed, last night was the closest they had come to losing each other. Of course Jemma was crying. He shouldn't have expected any less.

“Hey. Hey, I promise. I'm all right.” Leo said, softly. For the first time, he wished he wasn't stuck in the car with Grant. The other man could hear every word of his side of the conversation, and it was very possible that he was hearing snippets of Jemma's. It wasn't private by any means, but this was what Leo had to work with. “I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Jemma, but I didn't want to upset you. You had work today, and it just didn't seem fair, or right, for me to put that on you. I was going to tell you, later.”

“Right now.” Jemma clarified. She sounded a little less broken up, like maybe she was getting herself under control. Leo hoped so. He didn't want to be the reason that Jemma caught curious glances at work. Especially not after she had gained a promotion for herself.

“Yeah,” Leo amended, smiling. “Right now. I'm okay, though, okay? Are you okay?”

Jemma sniffed on the other end of the line. “I suppose I'll _live_.”

“There you go.”

“Leo?”

“Mm?”

There was silence for a few seconds, Jemma working through exactly what it was she wanted to say. It was highly likely that it was more of a reprimand for not telling her sooner what had happened with him. He would deserve it. They were like brother and sister, and siblings looked out for each other. If he had been in her position, he would have been upset, too.

“I'm very, very glad you're okay. I know that it isn't ideal, you working with the detective on this, but I know that it will help you feel like you're doing something, and if you're this involved, maybe it's better than you have your hands in that cookie jar. I'm sure he's a wonderful detective but you... You and I, we're geniuses. If anyone is going to solve this, it will be a genius, right?”

Leo was grinning now. They were still a few blocks from the police station, but he suddenly didn't mind that, so much. “Yeah, it'll take a genius, that much is for sure.”

“Mm.” Jemma took a breath, again, and Leo could tell she was steadying herself. She was done crying, and no one else would need to know that she'd had an emotional moment. “That being said, I'm _very, very_ glad that there are officers at your apartment. Try not to offend them, please? Be a good host?”

“When have I ever not been a good host?”

Jemma ignored his question, powering on. “Be careful about people you don't know, and don't trust anyone that isn't one of ours, or someone Detective Ward approves of. There's a copkiller out there and he or she clearly isn't above hiring someone to carry out their dirty work. Be careful. Keep yourself safe.”

“I will.” Leo answered, abandoning his joking tone for now.

“Good.” Jemma said, clearly pleased with his answer. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“You think we can see each other sometime soon? I know you're going to be busy with this, but I really need to give you a hug and a smack.”

Leo laughed at that. “Not sure I _want_ to see you, if that's how things are going to go.”

“Leo.”

Still smiling, he settled down, and answered seriously. “That would be good. I'll let you know when I have some free time.”

“Good. Take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

They signed off, and Leo locked his phone, sliding it back into the pocket of his bag with a muttered, “sorry.”

“For what?” Grant asked, looking over at him. “You were checking in with your girlfriend. I can't believe you didn't tell her sooner that what happened, happened.”

“Girl--? No.” Leo raised both hands in a defensive gesture. “Uh, no, Jemma's not my girlfriend.”

Grant raised an eyebrow. “Well, she's not your sister...”

“No. Well... No, not technically.” Leo answered, closing his eyes and cringing. “It's like... She's my best friend. She's been my best friend for a long, long time. She may as well _be_ my sister.”

“Ah.” Grant said. “So it's like that.”

Leo narrowed his eyes, looking across the car at the other man, trying to work out what he was hinting at. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.”

Leo scoffed. “Nothing. That sounds like bullshit to me.”

“I was just commenting. Oh, that's the situation, you're lifelong pals.” He gave Leo a confused look that was edging on annoyed. “That's all.”

Leo searched his face for as long as Grant let him before turning back to the road. It was hard, sometimes, for people to grasp that he and Jemma were only friends, but for some reason, Grant understanding that had been important to Leo. For a reason that he, himself, wasn't sure the origin of. He just needed to be sure that Grant got it.

They spent the rest of the ride in silence, Leo thinking about what he'd said, and why Grant had seemed so put-off that he was digging deeper into his words. It was probably nothing, but even when they got out of the car, and headed up to the station, it lingered in the back of Leo's mind, another mystery to be worked out.

 

 

 

“This room is kind of cramped.”

Leo knew he shouldn't be complaining. He had been given the thing that he had begged and pleaded Grant to give him, and if he had to deal with a bit of a tight squeeze, so be it.

The thing was, though, this was a _really_ tight squeeze. He supposed it might not have been so bad if he and Grant weren't vying for the computer screen, and if they weren't both sitting in the chairs that Grant had wheeled in, but, here they were. Apparently, a few of the other rooms were in use, so Grant had been forced to take the room that all the officers and detectives dreaded, for their perusal of the footage that, hopefully, had Sitwell on it.

“Yeah, well, if the others realized that I was coming back in to review footage again for the Sitwell case, they probably would've cleared out of the good room. But, they didn't, so...” He reached across Leo to commandeer the mouse, running the CCTV footage, now that it had loaded into the system.

This time around, they would be focusing on cameras that were in the area of 113 Terrace Boulevard, but in the two hours prior to Leo heading there. Leo hadn't been here when Grant had reviewed the footage the first time – or however many times – but now that he was, he was finding that the experience they'd had at the transit commission had been much better. For one thing, they'd had more space. For another, there had been multiple monitors to look at everything on. For yet another, still, this was a much busier area, at 11 PM on the weekend, than the subway terminal had been at nearly 2 AM.

If they were hoping to see Sitwell, they were going to have to let the footage go by slowly, camera by camera, until they spotted him, and, hopefully, their suspect. That was a long shot. They didn't know why Sitwell had been at that office building, if he had been led there or if he had met up with the man there.

With any luck, what they saw on these tapes would give them their answer.

“We'll make due.” Leo agreed, sliding back a little to give Grant room. It didn't stop him from leaning forward to peer critically at the screen. He hadn't know Sitwell when he was alive, and his corpse hadn't been in the best condition. Grant had gone to pick up Sitwell's ID photo while Leo had been getting fingerprinted – necessary precaution – and had brought it into the room with them, giving it to Leo to study. It would help him pick out the sergeant in the crowds. At least, that was the plan. Watching people walk past the cameras, Leo couldn't help but hope that he would be able to pick out _anyone_. There were a lot of people passing by, still, and if the crowd didn't thin out, he was concerned that both he and Grant would let Sitwell pass them by.

That would be a worst case scenario, for a variety of reasons. This room was cramped, but it also seemed to be in the arctic circle of the station. Grant had handed him yet another police branded sweatshirt before they had gone in, muttering “You're going to need this.” When Leo had pressed for more information, Grant had explained that the room seemed to be the first on this duct leading from the HVAC units on the roof. Or something to that effect. In any case, it was freezing, most of the time, because the air conditioning was always up so high and no one seemed to know how to fix it.

Another reason why Leo hoped they didn't miss Sitwell the first time around was they already had somewhere in the region of six cameras to check, running at a rate that was only slightly faster than normal, all broadcasting roughly an hour and a half to two hours worth of footage. It was a lot to go through, and if they missed him on all these cameras, Leo suspected Grant wasn't above watching everything over again just to be sure that he really hadn't shown up on any of them, not that they'd missed him.

Sitting in this room for that long wasn't a prospect that Leo looked forward to.

Since they had gotten back to the station, he had relaxed somewhat. The realization that his reaction to Grant's assumption had been a little much had helped with that. There was no reason for him to get his back up with Grant. There had been plenty of people in both his _and_ Jemma's lives who had assumed that the two of them were dating. That was just the way of the world. It was very difficult, at times, for people to believe that a man and woman, particularly ones as close as he and Jemma, could be friends and only friends, without having gotten biblical at some point in their friendship.

That didn't change simply because Grant was supposed to be a detective. He was a homicide detective, not an 'are they or aren't they banging?' detective.

Leo snorted as he thought of that, supposing that an 'are they or aren't they banging?' detective would be otherwise known as a private detective. Exactly the career he'd wondered about and turned down because he didn't want his life to become about investigating others' sex habits. Grant, sitting next to him, looked over, taking his eyes off the screen. Because he had, Leo couldn't, as at least one of them needed to be watching the footage, but that didn't mean that he missed the way the other was looking at him. All it took was a split second look to see Grant's confusion.

“Sorry, I was thinking about... uh, real detectives versus sex detectives.”

There was a pause, and then Grant spoke in a tone that made it obvious he was more than a little bewildered. “I'm sorry?”

“I – What I _mean_ is.” Leo started, then pointed to the screen. “This one's done.”

Grant turned back and went for the mouse again, clicking through the files, bringing up the next camera on the grid. “I can't believe it's already been 45 minutes.”

“Time flies when you're staring at absolutely nothing.” Leo said with a wry smile. He got a surge of pride when Grant smiled and looked over his shoulder at him, before he set the footage to playing, and leaned back.

“Yeah, I guess it does. Which is lucky for us. Anyway.” He wasn't looking at Leo now, but he did seem like he was sitting a bit closer, his arms crossed over his chest while he watched the footage scroll by. If Leo was honest with himself, he _wished_ Grant would sit a little bit closer. It wasn't unbearably cold in this room, yet, but sharing body heat would probably hold it off from becoming too much. “You were thinking about real detectives and... You know, uh...”

Leo blinked, glancing away from the screen for a moment to looked at Grant critically. He wasn't looking away from the monitor, and he didn't seem like he noticed Leo looking at him. While Leo watched, he brought his hand up, clicking his fingers.

“Uh...”

“Sex detectives?”

“That's it.” Grant said, snapping and pointing at Leo. “That. What the hell did you mean by that?”

Leo shrugged, looking back at the screen. “I just mean... Isn't that essentially what private detectives are? From everything I've heard, the bulk of what they do is detect whether or not someone's spouse is sleeping around.”

“You have aspirations to be a PI, Mr Fitz?”

Leo smiled, mimicking Grant and folding his arms. It was definitely helping him, at least to keep his hands warm. “I thought about it, for a bit, a while back. Jemma thought it might be a good idea, too. I know, I don't know if you remember, exactly, but I did bring up the fact that my engineering degree is gathering dust in this city because all the engineering jobs are taken. If you want to do that, you have to rely on contract and freelance work.” Leo shifted in his seat, glancing over at Grant for a second before he looked back at the screen. This street that they were watching now was close to where he'd gotten off the subway. Seeing it, hours before he'd walked it, full of people going about their weekends, was surreal. “And that's pretty scarce. You don't want to have to hope that something comes along, when something might only come along every two or three months. And even then, only if you're lucky.”

Leo saw Grant nod out of the corner of his eye. “Private investigation wouldn't be the same? Isn't what you do _now_ the same?”

Shaking his head, Leo continued. “No. Private investigation, if you can make a name for yourself, and advertise yourself enough, can _become_ fairly constant. I would think you'd know that.”

“We don't tend to make friends with private investigators too often. We deal with them when we have to, but, for the most part, we all keep to ourselves.”

That was interesting, and not something Leo had known. “Huh. I guess, since they can sometimes investigate crimes...”

“Only, usually, ones we've already solved, or that we're working on. When it's the second one, all they usually do is get underfoot. It's goddamn annoying.” Grant leaned forward, tapping the mouse and peering critically at something on the screen. Leo leaned forward, too, trying to pick out what it was that Grant was looking for, not seeing anything until he spotted a bald head in the crowd, on the far side of the sidewalk.

“Is that...?”

Grant's eyes were narrowed. “I don't _think_ so. He doesn't seem tall enough.” A few more seconds passed in which Grant looked at the screen, before he nodded and leaned back again, setting the camera to run once more. “Definitely not tall enough.”

They settled in once more, and Leo thought that, perhaps their conversation was over. He had gotten the idea that Grant didn't like to talk about private investigators, and would be happy to stay off the topic. That, he supposed, made sense. People tended to go to private investigators for, yes, suspicion of affairs, but like Grant had pointed out, they also went to them for cases they thought the police detectives had botched. That was bound to make Grant, a police detective, dislike them. They were profiting off of public belief that he and his ilk were not capable enough at their jobs to get to the true answer of things. Leo supposed, if he were in a profession where that sort of competition existed, he, too, would carry around a little resentment for them.

It _was_ kind of funny, though.

Grant was a big, serious detective who seemed to have the respect of his peers and his civilian contacts. He hadn't really screwed up, yet, that Leo could see, at least, not in a way he would call serious. He was very, very capable at his job, a thought that the journalist was sure would be backed up when he looked up Grant's track record with the police force.

And yet, he was annoyed and maybe even a little bit threatened by private investigators, who, at the end of the day, only posed a threat if they were able to credibly prove that he had failed at his job.

Leo was certain he would have heard Grant's name before now, if the detective had been dragged through the mud for failing where a PI excelled. Mistakes were always reported on much more than successes.

“You never explained to me how what you do now isn't different from freelance or contract engineering.” Grant said, quietly, after a stretch of silence that had gone on for more than ten minutes. Leo, who had thought they were done, looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Well... It's obvious, isn't it? When the engineering jobs are all taken and the work is fairly constantly performed, contract or freelance jobs come along once in a blue moon. But with journalism and reporting and uncovering stories, there are always more stories than reporters. There are always going to be more people telling a story than people willing to share it. If,” Leo paused. “If that makes sense?”

Grant was quiet for a moment. Twice, he made a sound like he was going to speak, and then didn't. When he did finally talk, it was in the quiet tone of someone who has had their eyes opened to the reality of things. That wasn't uncommon. Leo had explained why it was that he was able to make _some_ kind of living by doing freelance journalism for so long, a few times before. There was the odd time that a person would nod along with him immediately, and agree that what he was saying made sense. Once or twice, someone had argued with him and said that was a trumped up explanation for him doing what they saw as 'lazy work'.

More often than not, this was the reaction he got.

Thoughtful silence, and then exactly the line Grant was saying.

“I never really thought of it like that.”

“Most people don't,” Leo said, in a tone that was just as quiet. “A lot of people actually tell me that, if that's the case, I should get into celebrity gossip journalism, because there are bound to be a lot of stories there.”

“And a lot of lawsuits for reporting things that might be wrong or count as defamation.” Grant replied immediately, and Leo nodded, emphatic.

“Exactly. I don't have the kind of money that it would take to get out from under Taylor Swift's lawyers.”

That got another laugh from Grant, and Leo couldn't deny the rush of pride. He had managed to make the detective laugh a few times today. He had been a little bit worried that they wouldn't get along, or that all of this would be sufficiently awkward, and Leo would spend his free time kicking himself for making any kind of request that Grant include him in the investigation. Once they had moved past their particular differences, though, and once Leo had shown his vulnerability, and gotten Grant to lower his shield, they were getting along. Leo still wouldn't say they were friends, and maybe by the end of this, they wouldn't be. It didn't hurt, though, that they weren't sitting in tense silence, and they were actually making an effort to have conversations.

They made it through that round of footage, and another, and another still, before Leo started to feel antsy. There was every chance that they might miss or not even have Sitwell on this footage, and he wasn't sure was what that meant for their investigation. He knew that, for absolute sure, they needed to know why it was that Sitwell had been at that building that night, or, at the very least, understand how he may have gotten there.

If they couldn't get the answer from this footage, Leo wasn't sure what their next step would be. Sure, he had some idea of where they could turn, next, but he wasn't sure what Grant would see as the most rewarding or likely option.

That was a bridge that they would cross when they got to it, he supposed.

Over the course of watching the footage, the room had, definitely, gotten colder, and Leo had shamelessly wheeled his chair in closer to Grant's. When the detective had looked at him, he'd muttered, “It's _bloody_ cold in here, and you're radiating heat.” That had seemed to be enough of an explanation, and Grant hadn't gestured or commented further.

In fact, the other man had been silent for some time, and Leo was beginning to wonder what was going on in his head. Was he, like Leo, wondering where they should turn next, if they weren't able to spot Sitwell on this footage? Was he simply in the zone of watching person after person after person hurry by on the screen? Leo wouldn't know if he didn't ask, and it wasn't like they hadn't been chit-chatting here and there while they had been watching. He was about to open his mouth and ask Grant what he was thinking, when he saw something on the screen, and lurched forward, his hand landing on the mouse and whacking it out of the way so he could hammer the space bar on the keyboard.

The image froze on the screen, and Leo pointed in answer to Grant's “what, what?”

There, on the screen, was Sergeant Jasper Sitwell. It was late, 12:13 AM, and the sidewalk was deserted. Sitwell had just barely come into frame, but Leo had been positive it was him. Looking at the frozen features now, there was little doubt.

Grant seemed convinced of the same. “That's him.” He said, leaning forward, and reaching for the mouse to recalibrate the controls. When he tapped the space bar again, the footage continued moving, but at a much slower rate.

On the screen, Sitwell walked to the bottom edge, and then stood there. He seemed to be waiting for someone, and while he wasn't outright pacing, he wasn't still, either. While they watched, he walked back and forth on the sidewalk, up a bit, and back down, out of frame, making Grant make a frustrated sound. Thankfully, he came back into frame, and went to stand against the wall of the building the camera was mounted on. It was harder to see him from this angle, but he didn't seem to move from there for a while.

“He's waiting for someone.” Leo said, quietly, looking over at Grant to see if he thought the same. Grant's eyes left the screen for a second, meeting Leo's, and he hummed his agreement. Both of them looked back at the screen, watching while Sitwell waited.

Sure enough, as Leo suspected, at 12:23, the man he had seen leaving the office building, the man Grant had watched take a roundabout way to the Mavis terminal, the man they had watched get on and off the subway trains, late at night, walked into frame, carrying a briefcase.

“Gotcha, you sonuvabitch.”

Leo smiled just slightly at Grant's murmur, and continued to watch.

Sitwell had straightened up when the man approached and, while they watched, the two of them seemed to talk. Things seemed all right for a while, but as their conversation went on, Sitwell seemed to become more and more agitated, which only made the other man more animated. They were arguing, but about what, Leo didn't know, and couldn't guess.

He didn't like it, though. Sitwell had been waiting for this man, it seemed. If this was the man who had killed him, why? Had he, like Leo, been lured into it? And why were they talking at length like this, if they weren't acquainted? Things weren't adding up, and it was leaving Leo with an uneasy feeling. Risking a look at Grant's face, he took in the set of his brow and the tight clench of his jaw, and suspected that Grant, too, wasn't feeling quite right about all this.

The conversation only lasted six minutes. Then Sitwell was throwing up his hands, and shaking his head.

“He tried to walk away and this guy got an-- Oh.”

Leo had thought he was on to something with his suspicion. Watching Sitwell, on the screen, wave his hand in a clear ' _you lead the way_ ' gesture, changed that. Sitwell hadn't been trying to get away from this man. He had been willing to go along with him, possibly all the way to the office building.

In fact, Leo was sure of it.

If they watched the tapes approaching 113 Terrace Blvd, he had a sinking suspicion that they would see Sitwell and the man in the fedora arrive together. Looking at the label for where this camera was located, however, Leo realized it was the closest camera on the eastern side of the building. This was the last chance they would have had to see Sitwell, if he'd approached from the east.

There was no more footage to be reviewed that would show them any more of what these two men had been up to that night before Leo had found Sitwell dead. This was the last available before the man – the murderer, Leo was sure, now – appeared on camera, heading to Mavis terminal.

He was quiet. This was evidence that seriously complicated things, from where he was standing. Sitwell had seemed to have known and expected the man, and, rather than being in a hurry to extricate himself from the other's presence, he had, in fact, invited him to lead the way to the very place where Sitwell would later die. It didn't make Leo feel _good_. It certainly didn't make him feel anywhere close to _settled_.

It seemed like a very long time before Grant spoke. When he did, it was in a steady, emotionless voice.

“Did that man have that briefcase when you saw him?”

Leo looked over at Grant. After a few seconds, the other met his eyes, and raised his eyebrows, a small action that broke Leo out of his frozen state.

He shook his head. “No. I think I would have remembered... I'm fairly detail oriented.”

Grant nodded, and straightened up. “We need to label this tape, and mark down the times they're visible. I'm going to run this down to the evidence room, you head back and wait for me at my desk.” Standing, he set to work, leaned over the computer, relabeling the footage file that they had found Sitwell on. “You and I are going back to that building. I want to have a look for that briefcase.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Grant had been very clear with Leo when they had arrived at 113 Terrace Blvd. If he didn't want to come in, he didn't have to. Grant had made a grand speech about how he understood if Leo was feeling too uneasy about the place, and that Leo had seen something terrible there, so Grant would not force or judge him if he didn't want to go in. Leo, he said, was not a police officer, he was only a consultant. He didn't _need_ to enter the crime scene with Grant. If he didn't want to go, Grant could call Daisy or Bobbi, or anyone who wasn't currently busy, to the scene to accompany him into the building.

Leo wasn't having any of it. Yes, what he had seen there had been terrible, but there were reasons why he had wanted to help get to the bottom of this. Sitting in the car while Grant did the hard work and looked around the building for the briefcase they'd seen on the footage, would not fit Leo's definition of 'helping'. He had told Grant as such while he'd propelled himself from the car, and headed for the door, for the second time in only a few days.

This time, however, he'd approached with trepidation, and with the memory of Sitwell's bloody, damaged face clear in his mind. Sitwell was gone, now, he knew. His body had been taken to the morgue, and the building had been taped off as a crime scene while Grant and others investigated what had happened there. That didn't make it any easier for Leo to forget what he'd seen while he and Grant ascended the stairs, heading for unit 7.

“They've obviously been through the office you found him in,” Grant was saying while they walked towards that door. It was closed, now, with more police tape across the front of the door. Grant had picked up a set of keys before they'd left, and those were still in his hand, from having opened the front door of the building. The company who was leasing it had been more than willing to hand over a set of keys to the police for use during their investigation. Grant had said they had been extremely cooperative, and Leo could easily guess why. It would be exceptionally difficult for them to lease this building, now, after all this had happened here. Anything they could do to make themselves look as good as possible in the public eye was essential.

“You think they might have missed something?” Leo asked, standing back and pulling on the blue nitrile gloves the other had handed him in the car, while Grant carefully peeled the edges of the tape from the door with his own gloved fingers, and unlocked it.

“I know they missed something. It was only a preliminary look. It was always a given that I would come back here at _some_ point, today just happened to be the day that it happened.” He pushed open the door, and Leo braced himself for what would be on the other side. As it was still a crime scene, the force hadn't allowed any work to be done in the unit. That meant, when Grant pushed the door open, there was still a large, dark stain on the carpet where Sitwell's blood had soaked in.

Grant was careful, stepping around that, and Leo followed suit, mindful to step where Grant had. He didn't want to contaminate the scene any more than he already had. Once they were inside, Grant motioned for him to shut the door, and then looked around the room that they'd entered into.

When Leo had been here, last, he hadn't had the presence of mind to catalogue where he was and what he was seeing. Now, a few days removed from what he'd witnessed, he realized that the door he'd pushed open had been the entrance to a waiting room for what _seemed_ to be a space marketed as a doctor's office. Whether that was physical or mental health, Leo didn't know, but suddenly the furniture made a lot more sense. The table where Sitwell appeared to have hit his head, or have his head rammed, was still in its place, the front bloodied from that night. Leo hadn't noticed before, but it was pushed into the wall on one rear corner from the sheer force of what had happened. Removing traces of what had happened here wouldn't be so simple as just replacing the carpet.

There were also chairs in the room. They were generic, a light gray cushion and back held together on a black metal frame, the same sort that you would see in any doctor's office. The building was currently on the market for 'professionals'. Leo assumed that the leasing company had made sure it was somewhat furnished to give prospective leasers an idea of what they'd be working with, should they choose to lease there.

Grant was standing maybe three feet from another telltale sign on the carpet. Leo's eyes landed on it and he felt a wave of shame, quickly looking away and toward the detective. Grant was going through the set of keys he'd been given, standing at an inner door to the office. To the left of it, there was a window, and when Leo moved over to peer through, he saw a low desk attached to the wall with space enough for a few people. IKEA desk chairs that matched the one he had at his apartment sat behind the desk, completing the look of a reception area.

“There are a few rooms back here.” Grant said, finally locating the key he wanted, and unlocking the inner door. It swung open silently on brand new hinges, and Grant flicked on a light switch just inside the hallway, before leading the way down it. Leo followed after him, hearing the keys jingling while he picked out the one that would unlock the doors that they had found behind that first one. Each of them was painted a dark colour, brown, from what Leo could tell, and had a transom window above. All but one of them were tilted open, potentially to allow more ventilation for any paint work that had been done inside.

“Exam rooms, I assume.” Leo said, quietly. He moved past Grant down the hall, looking at the shiny brass door handles and the freshly painted walls. This hallway still smelled vaguely of paint, and Leo supposed the only reason it did was because it had been closed up. There was little chance for the stench of Sitwell's blood and his old vomit to leak in and cover it up. He was glad for that, to be honest. Moving into this hallway, though its scent of new paint stung his nostrils a bit, was a welcome change from being out there, and the smell made it feel like an entirely different place.

It helped that, on that night, he hadn't come down here. He had no memory of this hallway, and, therefore, no reason to associate it with anything bad. At least, not directly.

Grant opened the first door along the hall and pushed it open, the door moving with a sticky sound, indicating that it had been locked too soon after the paint had seemed to be dry. Leo came back, following him into the room to find...

“This is less pointed.”

This room, compared to the others, was bare. Leo supposed that made sense. While it could be intended to be a doctor's office, there was the possibility that it could be used for just about any office that would require multiple rooms, such as a talent agency or insurance broker. Not furnishing these rooms was probably supposed to give the prospective client the ability to fully imagine their space without the intrusion of the leasing company's suggestions.

“If they're all like this, I really doubt we're going to find the briefcase in here.” Grant said, and he sounded almost put out. Leo understood that. It would have made things much easier if they could find the briefcase here. Perhaps it would have information about why Sitwell had seemed willing to accompany the man to this building. Perhaps it would show that he was being blackmailed. Leo would almost prefer that. He hadn't known the officer, personally, but he didn't like the idea that he may have been involved with someone who would brutally murder cops and not seem to show any qualms over it.

“Well...” Leo left Grant in the hallway, moving back the way they'd come, and passing the door to the waiting area to walk around to the desk. “I'll look up here, if you want to check the other rooms?”

“Sounds good.” Grant called, and then, a few seconds later, “Good thinking, by the way.”

Leo shrugged, though he knew Grant couldn't see it, and wheeled the chairs back so that he could see the desk's filing system. There were a few drawers and cupboards, and below one of the alcoves meant for the receptionists to put their legs, there was a small, black filing cabinet. Some of the drawers had locks, though a quick tug revealed that they weren't currently engaged, and Leo briefly wondered if those keys, too, were in the set that Grant had. It seemed unlikely. The keys to this desk would probably be handed over at the time of sale on the unit.

Leo set to work opening the drawers that he could, finding nothing but empty space. In the hallway, he could hear Grant opening the doors, and his footsteps while he looked around the rooms. Hopefully they weren't _all_ empty like the first one had been. That would make this entire visit to this unit a bust. It was possible, Leo supposed, that the man he'd seen had left the briefcase in one of the other units, but that seemed like a lot of work to have accomplished in 40 minutes.

He would have needed to get Sitwell here, kill him, and get into another unit before Leo had arrived. Not to mention get out of the building while Leo was arriving.

For that matter, Leo had a question that needed answering.

“Grant?”

The detective's answer sounded like it was at the far end of the hallway. “You find something?”

Leo winced. Of course, that was why he'd thought he was beckoning. “Um. No, I didn't, not yet, but I was just wondering... How did this guy get in here that night?”

“I'm surprised you didn't notice.” Grant's voice was getting louder as he spoke, indicating that he was coming to join Leo in the desk area. He must not have been able to uncover anything in any of the rooms off the hallway. “The lock was broken, both for here and the front door. They've replaced them since, obviously. The leasing company hadn't bothered to lock this back hallway, because the unit and front doors were locked. It's why I thought something might be in here. It was partly open the night you found Sitwell.” Grant had come into view, and was standing at the corner of the curved desk, looking at Leo while he was crouched on the floor, moving along, testing the drawers and cupboards.

“My... mind was on other things that night.” Leo said, turning back to the job at hand, and opening the next set of cupboard drawers. The memories were swimming at the edge of his mind; the dent in Sitwell's skull, the bounce of his cell phone against the carpet before it landed in blood, the bang of the police arriving, the weapon standing out so starkly from the other objects in the room. “I guess I wasn't paying attention.”

Moving to close the cupboard – another empty space – Leo shifted his weight and promptly lost his balance. He'd been waiting for that to happen, and had hoped it wouldn't happen in front of the detective. Beggars couldn't be choosers, though, he lurched forward, one hand slamming down on the bottom of the cupboard to try and save himself. It was a little too late, though, and he bumped his forehead on the edge of the desk.

“Fuck. Ow.”

It hadn't helped that when the desk had been built, they hadn't installed the bottom of this cupboard correctly. Leo had slammed his hand down, and it had shifted under his weight, an imperfect saviour.

“Shit, you all right?”

Grant's hand was on his shoulder, pulling him back until he fell back on his ass on the hardwood floor. He reached up, rubbing at his forehead and glancing Grant's way. The detective didn't _look_ like he thought Leo was an idiot, so that was a blessing. If anything, he looked concerned.

“Yeah, I'm fine. I should have just been on my knees but it was easier to move like that, you know?” He scowled at the cupboard. “I probably would have been fine if that had held my weight-- Uh...”

Grant was looking at the same spot as Leo, and from the look on his face, he was coming to the same conclusion. Leo shifted out from under his hand and crawled forward, slipping his fingers under the groove of the cupboard base and tugging at it. It took a bit, and the inside of the cupboard was a little scratched, given that his fall had jammed the bottom board, but he got it up enough to pull out what was underneath.

“The briefcase.”

Looking back at Grant, Leo turned it over in his hands. This had to be the one they'd seen on the video footage. There was no way someone else had just decided to stash a briefcase in the bottom of the desk in the office where an officer had been murdered.

“Do me a favour and go stand back there.” Grant said, indicating the end of the desk where he'd been standing before Leo had toppled over. “I need to get some pictures, and then we need to take that back to the station. I doubt we'll be able to break it open, here, and I want it scanned before we try to open it.”

Leo nodded, and shimmied back until he could get to his feet and walk to the end of the desk while Grant moved in to take photos. While he did that, Leo ran his fingers over the handle of the briefcase, and the locks on the top of it. It wasn't anything fancy, and it wouldn't be hard for them to break in to, but Leo understood where Grant was coming from. The man who had last had this in his possession seemed to have killed a cop without a problem. It would be nothing for him to rig it with an explosive, or something worse.

“You don't think there's something biochemical in here, do you?” Leo asked, glancing Grant's way. He was crouched in front of the cupboard, running his fingers over the grooves Leo had left in the new finish.

“Might be. It's why we have to take it to the station. There are people there who are trained to open these if there is a concern of something like that. We actually have a Halo scanner that can be used to see what's in here.” He looked back at Leo while he got to his feet. “You know what that is, right?”

Leo scoffed. Asking if he, a trained engineer, knew what a Halo scanner was seemed almost offensive. To Leo, it seemed outrageous that he not know about the high quality scanner, that made use of xrays and 3D imaging to learn more about whatever it was set on. “Of course I do. I just didn't know that it was possible for a police force to have one.”

“They're useful.” Grant said, nodding towards the hallway, indicating that he was ready to go. “It _should_ be able to identify what's in there, in some context. If the team determines it's non-lethal, we'll be able to have it opened, and then we can review the contents.”

“And if they deem it a potential lethal item or substance?” Leo asked, following Grant into the waiting room. He looked at the briefcase in his hands again, remarking silently at how mundane it looked. It was surreal that this could be a key clue in the case they were investigating.

“If they do that, it will be a very, very different ball game.” Grant said. Leo looked up, looking over his face.

He didn't like the grim expression he saw there.

 

 

 

It turned out that the case, after spending almost two hours with the tech and biohazard teams, was deemed non-lethal. As Grant carried it back into the room they had claimed as theirs for the opening, he informed Leo and Daisy that all the scan had produced was what looked like paper files. Leo wasn't sure what that meant. It might be that the case would be filled with mundane things, but he doubted it. There was something in his gut that was making him wonder if his blackmail theory wasn't all that wrong.

He had brought it up to Grant while they had driven to the station after leaving the office building, and Grant had agreed there was some credibility to it. It was a theory that he himself had been entertaining since they had left the video footage room before heading to Terrace Boulevard.

It was getting on in the day, nearly 6PM, but Grant didn't seem like he was flagging at all. It was pretty impressive to Leo, someone who enjoyed his sleep a great deal was didn't like when it was interfered with by anything he didn't consent to. This being Grant's job, Leo guessed that he had long since let go of any issues with things like that. One couldn't be a homicide detective and take issue with being required to keep strange hours.

“All right.” Daisy said, looking from Leo to Grant. “Are we ready to bust this guy open?”

She had arrived not long ago with a small pry bar in hand. The locks, as Leo had noted, wouldn't take much to break, and if they couldn't get through them with the pry bar, like Daisy had said, there was nothing like good, old-fashioned, brute strength.

That reason, Leo supposed, was why Grant had arrived with both the case _and_ a hammer.

“Care to do the honours?” Grant asked, pushing the case towards Daisy, who grinned, obviously more than happy to take on this task. Grant held the case still on its side while she worked the pry bar against the latches, jamming it down until with a _crunch_ the first one let go.

“Guess we don't need brute strength after all.” Daisy said, beaming across the case at Grant. He rolled his eyes, and nodded at the other latch that was yet to be opened.

“You mind opening that before you start celebrating, Sergeant?”

Daisy rolled her eyes, still grinning, and muttered, “Okay, Detective Terminator.” She set the pry bar against the latch, setting to work on it again before she stopped, and looked over at Leo.

He had been sitting, watching intently while the two of them worked and now, with her eyes on him, he felt put on the spot, caught, like she knew he might have done something wrong. “What?”

“Well, I'm thinking,” Daisy started, taking the pry bar away from the latch. “You're the one that found this. I mean, _technically_. I think you should get the honours of breaking the second lock.” When Leo opened his mouth to protest, she held up her free hand. “Ah! Don't argue, I know, you're just a consultant, but I think you've earned this. Don't you, Detective Ward?”

Grant rolled his eyes. “I don't really care _who_ opens it, as long as it gets opened. I would like to be able to examine this evidence _today_.”

“Oh, hear that?” Daisy said, thrusting the pry bar, lengthwise, towards Leo. “You better hurry up and do it before he gets even more grumpy. Trust me, it's not a sight you want to see. He does this whole heavy breathing, hate-face thing.” She shook her head. “Not a fun time.”

Leo couldn't help but laugh at that, and nodded, taking the pry bar from her and moving around the table to take up the position she'd been in. Daisy stood back, out of the light, to watch while Leo mimicked her stance and technique, jamming the end of the bar against the latch until it crunched, too, and fell open.

“Finally.” Grant muttered, but when Leo looked at him, there was a hint of a smile on his face. The detective turned the case to face himself, and held his hand out for the bar from Leo. He handed it over without a second thought, and Grant tapped the top of the case. “Mind holding the sides for me? With the latches broken it'll be a lot easier to snap this.”

Leo did as he was told, and leaned back slightly while Grant worked the pry bar against the slit between the top and bottom of the case. The sound of leather and aluminum ripping and crunching was quiet, but unmistakeable, before Grant was able to work the bar under and pry it open. With two loud _pops_ , the remaining securing bits of the latches let go, and the case popped open.

Curious, Leo immediately moved around the table, crowding into Grant's side. Daisy took up the space on his left, watching while he sifted through folders and loose papers and photos. They had swapped their original nitrile gloves out for a new pair when the word had come that the case was safe, and the blue stood out against the black and white of everything in the case.

It didn't look good. It looked, from what Leo was seeing, very, very bad.

The pictures depicted Sitwell with a man who matched the build and height of the one Leo had seen. He was photographed from the back, hunched over, so there was little of him to be seen, but Sitwell was immediately recognizable. In the photos he seemed to be showing the man blueprints of different buildings.

The papers consisted of emails back and forth from Sitwell – Leo assumed, given they were only marked with a J. as the sign-off – and an individual who only signed their name as Edward. At the sight of the name, Leo crossed his arms, shifting on his feet a little. That was too plain of a name to imagine belonging to someone who would do what this man had done. That was too plain, too common, of a name for Leo to feel the shiver down his spine that he did.

“He's... If this was Jasper...”

Leo looked over at Daisy, who was picking up one of the print-outs, looking it over. “If this was him... He was giving this guy so much. Information about city hall, about the security there, about- Oh my god.”

“What?”

Leo echoed Grant's question, uncrossing his arms to lean forward on the table while Daisy shoved the print-out under Grant's nose.

“That's my dad's name. They're talk about my dad, why are they talking about my dad?”

The note of panic in her voice was infectious, and Leo was glad that Grant was there. He wouldn't have been able to keep a level-head, but the detective seemed to, somehow. He shook his head, reaching into his back pocket for his cell phone. “I don't know, but I'm going to call Hunter, right now, see if he can get over there and get a protective detail on Councilman Coulson.” He tapped a few spots on his phone, putting it to his ear while he put a hand on Daisy's upper arm. “Breathe, it's going to be okay. We found this now, and that's a good thing.”

Daisy nodded. “Yeah. Okay. All right, sorry, just...” She trailed off, looking through the print-outs of the correspondence between Sitwell and this Edward figure. She was keeping her hands busy, while Grant made the call, and Leo couldn't help but feel his attention drawn back to the case again, while she did that.

Grant took a few steps back from them, and they moved in together, closing the gap that he'd left. Daisy's hands were picking through the papers in the main part of the case, but Leo's attention was drawn to a sliver of white sticking out of the elastic pocket on the case's top lid. It looked like the corner of something, more than likely more damning emails.

“I'm sure your dad will be okay.” Leo said, quietly, smiling at Daisy before reaching for the corner. “The council members are pretty well protected.”

Daisy managed a forced looking smile, but when she spoke, her tone sounded sincere. “You're right, I know that. Thanks, by the way. You don't need to say anything. I know you don't know me, or him.”

“No.” Leo admitted, tugging the corner loose. It was thicker than a normal print-out, probably a photo of something. “But it didn't seem right to... Uh, to...”

Daisy looked at the photo in his hand. “Holy shit. Fuck, shit, Grant, you need to--”

“--Is Daisy in here?”

Leo had been so taken up in the adrenaline of what they were seeing that he hadn't registered the rushing footsteps, even though he knew he'd heard them. Daisy and Grant were in the same boat, considering the way she jumped at the sound of her voice, and the way Grant cut himself off in mid-conversation with whoever Hunter was, on the other end of the phone.

Bobbi was standing in the doorway to their room, her eyes looking a little wild, and something else that Leo couldn't put his finger on. She was red in the face, and her hair looked windblown, like she'd been outside, or had sprinted for a long time before she'd found them.

“Bobbi, what's up?” Grant asked, speaking up for the sergeant, who looked like her heart had stopped. Bobbi's gaze shot to him, then at both of the others in turn.

“There's been an attack at city hall.”

Sympathy.

That was the something in Bobbi's eyes that Leo hadn't been able to put his finger on.

It was sympathy.

“Daisy. It's your father.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

The last few hours had passed in a blur that, to Leo, seemed impossible, because he hadn't been even close to the center of any of it, and yet, somehow, he had gotten swept up. It wasn't all that surprising, because he'd been in the room with Daisy, the adoptive daughter of the victim, and Grant, the lead detective on a case that absolutely had something to do with the attack. Daisy had been whisked away from the station immediately. Leo had gotten the quickest of rush introductions to her boyfriend, Antoine, who had come rushing into the station to get her and take her to the hospital. Everyone there had refused to let her leave until he got there, and though many of them had offered to drive her, she refused. She wouldn't put anyone out like that.

Like this was putting anyone out more than her.

It had been obvious from the second he had pulled that photo loose, and the two of them had gotten an eyeful of it.

It was a photograph of Councilman Coulson, one that Daisy said could have only been taken a few months prior. In the photo, he was standing with an attractive Asian woman that Daisy had identified as his long-time girlfriend, Melinda May. Leo knew who May was, but he hadn't been about to tell Daisy that, when identifying elements of the photo had been what was keeping her calm while they awaited Antoine.

Melinda May famously owned May Private Security, a firm that hired out men and women for the sole purpose of, as the name implied, private security. May herself was a force to be reckoned with when it came to prowess with protection and the physical. Leo's research into her, in the past, had revealed a history of military service and private security detail that had given her name a reputation that was not to be doubted.

She and Coulson had been together for many years now – more than a decade, though Leo wasn't sure the exact number, and he wasn't going to press Daisy for it – and rumours had flown in local gossip rags now and again about their long overdue wedding.

This photo had been taken the same night as the cover photo for the most recent 'when will they tie the knot?' story came out. Leo remembered it by the appearance of Melinda's figure hugging silver dress. He had his own preferences, but there was something undeniably appealing about the picture she made when she was photographed in that dress. Phil was wearing a basic black suit, but together they looked sharp, and high class.

In the photo, both of them seemed to be laughing at something that had been said. The photographer – presumably 'Edward' from the emails – was somewhere off to their left, in a position that Leo was sure had escaped both of them. That wasn't good for May's reputation, but Leo doubted this photo would be seeing the light of day, or that it would be discussed much in the public eye.

The reason for that was the message that had been scratched into the picture. The photographer – 'Edward', Leo would conclude – had gone to the trouble of having the photo printed on glossy 6x8 photo paper. It was edged with a classy white border, and might have made a beautiful addition to a living room as a framed, candid shot. Instead, however, 'Edward' had gone to further work after printing the photo. Using a pin, or some other thin, sharp instrument, he had carved words into the photo, over top of the happy, laughing couple.

 

GOOD MEN SHOULDN'T TAKE WHAT WAS NEVER THEIRS

 

Just remembering it made a chill crawl up Leo's spine, violent enough to make him shiver.

Sitting in the passenger seat of Grant's car, that was hard to hide from the detective, and when Grant looked over at him questioningly, Leo had to wave him off. Grant was already having a hard enough time as it was.

The incident at City Hall was being assigned to another member of the force, for now. They were going to investigate, and then, should their evidence seem to work with what Grant was collecting, they would go forward. The captain, a tall woman with a tight bun and thick glasses whose badge read 'Ctn. Hand' had agreed with Grant that his evidence seemed to point in the direction of this attack, but they would have to wait and hear back from what the other investigator found.

At least, that was what Leo had been told when Grant had said they were going to head back to his place early. The other investigator's name was Palamas, and that was all Leo knew, otherwise. Grant hadn't seemed in a chatty mood, while they'd been leaving the station and now, only a few minutes from Leo's building, he didn't seem to be in any more of a mood to chat.

That was understandable. This attack was, from where Leo was standing, absolutely connected to their murder case. Grant's murder case. The fact that he was being blocked out of it had to sting. Leo also suspected, by the dark clouds that were hanging over Grant's head, that the man blamed himself, in some way, for the fact that this had happened at all. A faster investigation may have helped them avoid all of this, but that logic seemed flawed to Leo. The perpetrator hadn't waited very long to take his next actions. He had killed Sitwell one night, sent someone after Leo the next, and in the late evening the day after that, he'd made an attempt on Coulson's life. There was little that could have been done to slow him down, especially given how this guy seemed to have gotten very, very good at covering his tracks. There was no point in denying Grant the inclusion of this incident into his investigation, but there was equally no point in Grant beating himself up about why it was that he was being denied access to the City Hall attack.

Leo was keeping that to himself, however. It didn't seem like the lecture or pep talk that Grant needed right now.

They pulled up to his building in silence, and Grant was just parking his car in a free visitor spot when Leo found his voice again.

“Listen, do you want to come up for a while? From what I got... You're supposed to be going home to rest.” He said, firmly, presenting his case. “I know that might be impossible, considering what happened, so if you want to come up for a while, and just talk at me...” Leo shrugged, looking away from Grant's face to focus on something outside the driver's side of the vehicle. It was easier than maintaining eye contact. “I wouldn't be opposed.”

Grant didn't answer for a few long seconds. The silence stretched for such a time that Leo couldn't help but look at the other man's face. He was relieved when what he saw there was consideration, but incredulity. “If you're offering...”

“I am.” Leo said, firmly. “Let's pretend we're friends. Come up for a drink and you can vent at me for a bit. At least until Joey and Mack get here.”

Grant smiled at that, and Leo felt a profound sense of accomplishment. That wasn't a pity smile, and it wasn't just something he was throwing Leo's way. Leo had actually gotten Grant, who he suspected to be sulking, to smile. That was a win in Leo's books.

“You know that the plan was for me to stick around until those two got here, anyway, right?”

Leo had hoped as much. “But venting and drinks weren't technically part of the plan, were they?”

That spike of pride only grew when Grant smiled and shook his head, the two of them climbing out of the car. “No. You know what, it wasn't, so thanks for expanding on my evening plans.”

“Any time.” Leo replied, leading the way to his building's door. There was something uplifting about knowing that, despite what had happened, he had gotten a smile out of Grant. They barely knew each other, only that both were investigators of a sort, and yet, being around Grant was very, very easy, and keeping the other man in somewhat good spirits was helping Leo do the same.

The higher he felt, the better off he'd be. It would keep him from going to dark places where cops had their skulls bashed in and councilmen got targeted individually inside the supposedly safe walls of City Hall.

“Will Daisy let us know what's going on, once she knows?” he asked as he and Grant walked into his apartment. He kicked his shoes off at the door while Grant made an affirmative noise, and continued on down the hallway, leaving the detective to lock the door, which he did. Leo heard the click and thud of the lock sliding home and relaxed, heading into his room to drop off his bag and cardigan. Tugging his shirt loose of his jeans, he walked back into the main part of his apartment, and gestured at the couch. Grant had been standing at the edge of the space, somewhat awkwardly, seeming unsure about what it was he should be doing.

“Make yourself comfortable. I'll grab us a couple of beers and... Uh...” Leo stopped in his kitchen, frowning while he opened the cupboards. “Well, if you're hungry--”

“-- I'm not.”

Leo leaned around the counter, looking critically at the other man. Grant had, as per Leo's instructions, made himself comfortable. He was sitting on one end of the couch with his legs crossed at the ankles, one arm over the back of the couch, the other laying relaxed in his lap. His expression was one of confusion, and he looked Leo over before speaking up for both of them.

“What?”

“You're not hungry.”

Grant paused a second. “No?”

“How can you not be hungry?” Leo asked, blown away by that fact. “We haven't eaten for hours. Can I at least interest you in sharing a bowl of popcorn?”

“I usually work really long hours with no break. My body is fairly used to going long stretches without food. And I guess...” Grant paused, and Leo had to make a small gesture to get him to carry on. “I guess I just don't think about it when I'm in the middle of a case like this. Food is the furthest thing from my mind.”

Leo felt a pang of guilt at that. They were investigating the brutal murder of one of Grant's colleagues. Of course he didn't feel up to eating, at least, not right yet. Leo almost wondered if there was something wrong with him, that he was able to think about food right now, before he remembered that everyone coped in their own way. If it were Bobbi in Grant's place, maybe she would be able to think about eating and want food, rather than the opposite. He couldn't beat himself up for it, _and_ he was a regular eater. Grant might not be, and his body might be used to that, but Leo's was not.

Still, what they had seen and heard had left him feeling a little queasy. He wasn't up to anything heavy, not yet, and so popcorn it was. Tossing the microwavable bag into the machine, Leo got out two cold beers and popped the tops off, walking into the living area to pass one to Grant. The detective took it, and wiped off the condensation around the base of the neck with a finger before he spoke.

“Thanks, Leo. This isn't the kind of thing I'm used to, so sorry if I'm coming off stiff or ungrateful. But it's nice of you to offer, the food and the talk. I appreciate it.”

Leo felt that swell of pride, again, and something else, but covered that all up successfully with a shrug, before taking a swig of his beer. “It just seemed like the right thing to do. You're investigating a case that could have included my murder, and you agreed to bring me along as a consultant. The least I could do would be to offer to hear you out and give you a beer and some popcorn.”

That smile was back on Grant's face, and Leo smiled back, walking to the microwave to retrieve their snack. Bending down, he dug a large metal bowl out from his bottom cupboards, and dumped the contents of the bag into it, before going back to the living room. While he'd been up, Grant had pulled out his phone, and Leo found him typing frantically, his beer held between his thighs while he did.

There was no denying the slight thrill of fear that went down his spine when he sat down a cushion over from the other man, setting the bowl between them. “Bad news?”

Grant seemed to have forgotten he was there, and he jerked up, then, looking over at Leo like he was surprised to see him there. He probably was. The way Leo was sitting now, he could see a block of text filling Grant's screen, and his own reply seemed to be matching that length. Something to do with the case, more than likely.

“No, good news... Well, depends on what you consider good and bad, actually.” Grant amended, and then passed over his phone. That, coming from a member of the police force, was a large sign of trust, and one that Leo didn't take lightly. To show that, he carefully took the phone and read over the message that was displayed on the screen. It was from Daisy, informing him that the attack had seemed to be the same as what had happened to Sitwell, but something had gone wrong, and before her father could die from it, the device that had been used had broken down. Coulson was still in critical condition, and sedated, but he was alive.

He was also, she said, beaten pretty badly. She'd been told that was because he'd been trying, and failing, to knock himself out. He hadn't been able to get quite the force behind it that Sitwell had.

Leo felt sick, again.

The beer in his other hand wasn't nearly as appealing now.

“Another subsonic weapon?”

Grant nodded, taking the phone back. Leo hadn't looked too long at the message he'd been typing in reply to Daisy, but he didn't regret it. Grant tapped the 'send' button and then locked his phone, setting it on the arm of the couch next to him before looking over at Leo. “Same weapon, and targeting Coulson, which was the intent all along, it seems. Judging by those emails, and that photo.”

Leo nodded, thinking back to both. Someone was targeting the councilman, and Sitwell had been involved. That much seemed hard to dispute. Sitwell had gone along willingly with this 'Edward' that night, they'd seen it on CCTV footage. Not only that, but Sitwell didn't seem to have had any qualms selling out police and city information to 'Edward' over email. The printouts, of course, could have been fake, and there was a part of Leo that wondered if they might be. Maybe this was all a part of 'Edward's' plan, to frame and discredit a deceased police officer.

It seemed far too convenient, however, for that to be the case. Leo doubted it. He doubted it a lot.

“On top of that, Sitwell was dirty.”

Grant seemed to have been reading Leo's mind. Looking across the couch, he found the older man staring at a spot on the carpet, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. “It... looks that way, yeah.” Leo agreed, quietly.

“He didn't deserve to die, but he was a dirty cop. He was feeding this guy – an obvious terrorist – information about things he never should have been handing out information on. It's one thing to tell a nosy reporter something--” He looked over at Leo, and Leo waved him on, choosing not to take offense to the remark. “--But this Edward guy never made up who he might be. He never said 'Oh, I'm a reporter', 'Oh, I'm a journalist', 'Oh, I'm a high school student researching the local police for a project'. He was fairly straightforward that he had goals he wanted to achieve and he wasn't going to split hairs about how it was that he'd achieve them.”

Leo nodded, and Grant continued on. “He... I mean, he was a dirty cop. He still _told_ him! Any and everything he wanted to know, without much pushing. I haven't read everything in that damn case, but it's all pretty fucking damning. And it's stuff that Sitwell could have known. Stuff _only_ Sitwell could have known, because he and Coulson used to be buddies!”

Grant was ramping up, now, and Leo, while a little scared, was fairly entranced. The detective had done a very, very good job of keeping himself fairly under wraps, all this time. With everything that they had encountered, both before and after Leo had wormed his way in, Grant had only really raised his voice a handful of times. Now, he was raising his voice, and gesturing with his free hand, and looking at Leo for confirmation that Leo wouldn't do anything but give. While he knew the mania wasn't directed at him, nor the anger in the other's tone, Leo couldn't help but feel a little trepidation. Grant's anger was a sight to behold.

“I just don't know... Aside from Daisy... And Bobbi, I guess. There's only a few people I think I can trust, now. I thought Sitwell was a trustworthy guy. So did Coulson. So did a lot of us. And now, it turns out, no, he wasn't, and hasn't been for a while? That's fucking with me. Sorry.” Grant held up a hand in apology, and Leo shook his head.

“No. I can't imagine what you're feeling. I wouldn't say – I mean I don't – I never _knew_ Sergeant Sitwell. But I can guess that if you say he seemed trustworthy than he was a nice guy. And knowing that, all along, he was feeding information to someone like this.” Leo swallowed, and busied himself with picking a few pieces of popcorn from the bowl. “Knowing that he was helping someone to do what they've done... I mean, however inadvertently.”

“It's knocking me off my damn feet.” Grant said, firmly. He looked Leo over, and a tight smile formed on his face. “At least, in the middle of this, I know I can count on you. It's looking more and more like the only reason you ended up there is because this freak wanted someone to tell his story, and you seemed like the best candidate.”

Leo didn't say anything in response to that. There was no way he could _ever_ write a story about what he'd witnessed, thanks to 'Edward'.

“I can trust you. That's one good thing, at least.”

Leo nodded. “Yeah. Of course you can. I'm not on the force, so I can't be mixed up, right? Bet you never thought your best bet would be the nosy journalist.”

There was that smile again. In the interest of keeping it in place, or, at least not letting Grant slip-slide back into that place he'd been stewing, Leo asked, “So, who's Antoine?”

Grant looked over, a curious and amused glint in his eye. “Why? You sweet on Daisy?”

Leo blew out a breath and held up a hand in a mimicry of what Grant had done before. “No. I was just wondering. She's a nice girl, and she's having a hard time. I might have gotten attached a bit quickly... And I'm wondering about her fiance, since she and Bobbi were talking about him.”

Grant nodded, like he understood. Leo supposed he probably did. He had known Daisy much longer than Leo had, and he had probably had much longer to get attached to her. It might have taken longer with him, given his hard outer shell, but Leo had little doubt that Grant wasn't at least a little attached to the Sergeant. She had that sort of way about her.

“She's a sweet kid. She's very driven, very dedicated to her work. She's can get a little caught up, sometimes. In the little things, the inconsequential things. That's why Trip – uh, Antoine – is a good match for her.”

Grant went on to explain Antoine Triplett's background. The man was former military, which was highly impressive, to Leo. It also drew parallels between Daisy and Antoine and Phil and Melinda, which Grant laughed at. It wasn't something he'd ever realized, he said, but now that Leo had pointed it out, it made a lot of sense. It lent a lot to the nurture over nature side of the debate.

Antoine was now serving at home, though it was not on a base that he did his work. As a decorated war veteran who had retained his sunny, upbeat attitude in the face of the things he'd seen, he was the perfect candidate for the military's public face. He did a lot of school tours, from what Daisy had told Grant, and while he could be found on base at the local post, he was usually there training or overseeing new cadets. Unless significant need for soldiers came up, he wasn't going to be going anywhere.

“Which is a good thing.” Grant said, finishing off his beer. “Because I think Daisy's going to need him around a lot more than she did before, for a while, and he won't want to be away. They work well together.”

There was a look in Grant's eye that had Leo opening his mouth before the thought had even fully formed in his head enough to be deemed a bad idea. “Did you and Daisy ever...?”

Grant looked over, and looked Leo up and down like he was sizing him up. There was more truth in that look than anything the man might admit to, but it didn't stop him from answering Leo. “No, we didn't. There was a little bit of time where we both... We danced around it.” Grant explained, shrugging, lazily tipping his empty bottle back and forth in his fingers. “We kissed once or twice but, uh, it just didn't seem like a good idea, in the end. She's a good kid, she's sweet, and she's smart, and she's got a spark that few people have. But the issue is...”

“You see her like a kid.” Leo spoke softly, watching Grant's face. The other man didn't look at him, but he did nod, and something in Leo's chest loosened. “That's not so bad, then. You understand what I'm saying when I say that Jemma and I, we're like siblings. Right?”

Grant did look over at that, and Leo was almost exasperated that he could see the dawning comprehension on Grant's face. “Bloody hell, you're supposed to be a homicide detective, but you couldn't understand that my seeing Jemma as a sister was the same as your seeing Daisy as a kid?” He said it with a light tone, laughter edging his words, and he was rewarded for it with another smile of Grant's. He reached over for one of Leo's throw pillows and lobbed it at his head, before standing.

“Yeah, all right, I get it. I'm better at the homicide thing than the emotional-gooey-shit thing.” He said, by way of excuse, and then held up his empty. “This goes...?”

“Just set it next to the sink.” Leo directed, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the kitchen sink. “I'll put it out in the morning.”

They had nearly finished the bowl of popcorn, and Leo was still feeling hungry. He was thinking about asking Grant his thoughts on having a pizza delivered when the phone Grant had left on the arm of the couch lit up and rang. Grant came around the counter, his empty put aside, and picked it up, swiping the screen and holding it to his ear.

“Hello?”

Leo listened to Grant's side of the conversation, idly scrolling the local pizza place's website, trying to decide how badly he wanted it. From what he could glean, Joey and Mack had arrived and were downstairs. While he'd been talking, Grant had moved to stand in front of the ancient buzzer that was mounted in the hallway leading to Leo's apartment door. The speaker had made the shortest of _ding_ sounds before he'd pushed the 'door' button and buzzed the two protective service officers in.

“The boys here?” Leo asked, looking up from his phone once Grant had hung up his own.

“Yup. I should probably head out, now that they're here. I need to get a shower and a few hours sleep before tomorrow. Fuck knows what _that's_ going to entail...”

Leo was acutely aware of the feeling in his chest tightening up again in a wholly different way. This wasn't relief and it wasn't annoyance or sadness. It was something like disappointment, and that was a little bit of a frightening thought. Of course Grant needed to head home for the night. He couldn't stay here, considering that he was about a half foot taller than Leo and would never fit into his clothes. The shower and the bed were, of course, not a problem, but the fresh clothing, and the promise of a meal that probably wouldn't be delivery pizza were things that Leo just couldn't provide in the place they were right now.

“You... Will you be picking me up tomorrow?” Leo asked, hating the hopeful note in his own voice. That was almost pathetic. He sounded like the little boy who just wanted to hang out and play cops and robbers with the real life police man.

Thankfully, Grant didn't seem to think much of it. Maybe it was the promise of being able to get some sleep after the long day they had had, running all over the city and digging things up before the attack on Coulson happened, but he seemed much more tired, suddenly. “Yeah. Probably a bit earlier than I did today, since I'm heading out of here at... Uh.” He flipped his wrist over, looking at his watch. “7.”

“That's fair.” Leo agreed. “About when, do you think?”

Grant's face scrunched up while he thought. “We should do a few interviews tomorrow. The girl who swiped her card ahead of Edward is a start. Should also talk to the operator on that train that night. Maybe the guy watching the incoming booth. I think they have one that late. I don't know.” His hand went out, running through his hair slowly. While Leo watched, the normally well styled hair slipped through Grant's fingers, becoming less of a fashionable mess than it was before.

The detective was definitely tired.

“That all depends on what comes out of the investigation on today, too.” Grant added. “Let's just aim for 9? Does that sound all right?”

That gave Leo 14 hours. Enough time to eat, rest a little, and get a full eight hours of sleep before he needed to get up, shower, and get ready to meet up with Grant and do the investigative process all over again.

“Yeah, that's great, 9 is perfect.” Leo answered, adjusting his position on the couch. There was a knock at the apartment door, and Grant went to answer it, which felt a little bit odd. This was Leo's apartment, but he was hanging back, keeping himself hidden, while a man who was little more than a stranger answered his apartment door for him. His life, in the last couple of days, had become something profoundly stranger than it was before.

Joey and Mack looked awake and refreshed when they appeared in the living area, Grant following behind them. They were dressed much the same as the night before, except for the fact that Mack had donned a plaid overshirt, and Joey was wearing a long sleeve white t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up around his elbows. They'd both left their footwear at the door, and looked ready to stay up all night long.

Leo suddenly remembered what he'd seen when he and Grant had been leaving that morning, and sat up a little straighter, flashing the officers a smile, and waving an invitation for them to sit down. “Good to see you. Welcome back.”

“Thanks for the welcome, Turbo.”

Leo blinked at Mack, and then looked to Joey for an explanation. The smaller man was grinning, clearly amused with what his partner had said.

“It's his nickname for you, for now.” Joey clarified. “After you were all pumped up to get going this morning, he thought you needed a codename that reflected that. So, Turbo.”

Grant snorted, and Leo shot an accusatory look his way. “No, I think that's perfect. I'll let you know if I have any other suggestions, though. He's actually working out to be one of the better consultants I've worked with.”

“Ohhh, that's good.” Mack said, grinning at Leo. “For now, unless you've got a problem with it, I think we'll be sticking with Turbo.”

“I don't have a problem with it, no.” Leo said, pulling a leg up under himself and smiling. “A codename. Now I _really_ feel like I'm part of the force.”

Mack and Joey laughed, and Mack reached over to clap Grant on the shoulder. He only had an inch or two on the other man, but he looked gigantic next to the detective, who was already fairly formidable. “You haven't been initiating him properly, huh, Ward?”

Ward smiled, but it didn't truly meet his eyes. Leo could understand why. “Been a long, busy day, Mack. Maybe there'll be time for that tomorrow. For tonight, do me a favour? Make sure Turbo is safe and sound, and that he's up and ready to go by 9? Please?”

Mack nodded, and though his joking demeanour had dimmed, Leo could still see the good humour there, alongside the respect. He knew why Grant was asking what he did, and he respected Grant's wishes. Leo supposed they were probably _orders_ , but he was choosing not to see them that way, as they hadn't truly been delivered as such.

“No worries. He'll be just fine.” Mack said, and then, in a gentler tone. “Why don't you get yourself home? Eat something, huh? And try to figure out what sleep is?”

Leo supposed, maybe, he wasn't supposed to have heard that, as Grant shot a look his way that seemed to be trying to gauge whether or not he was listening, and what he thought of what Grant was being told. Leo made the mistake of meeting his eyes before he shunted his gaze to his phone. He was so taken up in trying to focus on the pizza that he didn't notice Grant was leaving until the detective said his name.

“Sorry, sorry.” Leo looked up, turning his phone around so the others could see the screen. “Trying to decide on pizza. Um. You... Are you leaving, now?”

If Leo wasn't mistaken, Grant was smiling, just a little bit. “Yeah. I'll see you around 9? Like we agreed?”

“Like we agreed.” Leo repeated.

“All right. Good. Have a good night.” Grant met his eyes, and gestured to the two plainclothes officers he was leaving to watch over him. “I'm pretty sure these guys are some of the good ones.”

Those were his parting words, and before Joey could ask what Grant meant by that, he had pulled his boots back on and was out the door, leaving Leo with two very confused officers. Or, more aptly, one confused officer, and one curious officer who seemed like he might have an idea of why Grant had said what he did.

“I think the rumours about the recently deceased might have proven true, Joey.” Mack said, sparing Leo from having to figure out what could come off his tongue and what couldn't. He didn't nod to confirm, but he didn't think he had to. Not with the way Joey nodded, and then moved to come join Leo on the couch.

“So. You were thinking pizza?”

It turned out that neither Mack nor Joey had actually eaten anything before they'd come over. The best they'd done was pick up coffee, because they had been sleeping through the day and would need it to function. The idea of pizza, even though it was technically for their breakfast, seemed one that they were both on board with, and in what seemed like no time at all, the delivery boy was showing up at the door with an extra large pizza heaped with pepperoni, bacon, ham, mushrooms and green peppers for them to split. Leo had insisted on paying, so Mack had gone to the door with his cash while Leo and Joey had gotten out beers for the three of them. While it might not be the wisest idea to encourage his bodyguards to drink, Leo thought they more than deserved it for what they were doing.

After all, considering they were guarding him during his sleeping hours, he seriously doubted he was the most interesting subject they'd ever worked with. The least he could do was provide them with pizza and beer.

The issue was, however, that once Leo got a couple of beers in him, he got chatty. Chatty wasn't so bad, but there was the side effect of his chattiness that Jemma simply called him being 'nosy'. It had the habit of turning him into the exact sort of person that Grant had described before; the reporter who just asked whatever questions came to mind, in order to get the story, no matter what it may be.

Tonight, those questions were spurred on by what Leo was sure he had seen when he had looked towards Mack's car, that morning, when he and Grant had been leaving.

With a slice of pizza half eaten in his hand, Leo smiled towards the two officers and asked, as casually as possible, “So, what exactly are the policies about dating on the force? I mean, not really dating people _outside_ the force, but dating _within_ the force.”

The grin that had appeared on Joey's face at Leo's initial phrasing of the question didn't last long. It slipped, by a noticeable margin, and he looked towards Mack. The older man wasn't giving quite as much away as Joey, but he seemed to have a better understanding that they had been caught. Setting his bottle down on the coffee table, Mack shifted in his seat, clearly getting comfortable.

It was at that moment that Leo's brain kicked itself to life and he realized just how invasive and borderline inappropriate his question had been. Though they had only been there the one night, Leo was finding that he quite liked Joey and Mack. If his blunder, just there, got him assigned to different bodyguards, he wasn't going to be very happy with himself. Particularly because Grant had felt confident that these two men were some of the good ones. The officers that were assigned to him next might not be, and that wasn't something Leo wanted.

If there was even the slightest chance of that happening, even for selfish reasons, Leo needed to shut it down.

“I'm sorry. That was way, way out of line, and I shouldn't have. I thought... I thought this morning I saw--”

“--You saw us kissing.”

Mack said it so bluntly that, for a second, Leo had to wonder if he'd misheard. There was no mistaking that deep baritone, however, or the fact that Joey seemed more relaxed, but he was obviously feeling a bit cagey about the whole discussion.

“Uh. I. Yeah, I saw.... that.”

Mack nodded. “It's about as allowed as you'd imagine.”

“Which is to say, not at all.” Joey clarified. “It's seen as a potentially liability that can lead to favouritism, and this, that and the other. It's not allowed.”

That had been what Leo expected, which made what he was seeing, here, all that much more impressive. Not only were these men a couple, which, in some circles, would be seen as taboo enough, but they were both police officers, and this kind of relationship between them was expressly forbidden.

Leo said the only thing he could think of to say, even if it wasn't very helpful. “That's hard.”

“It is.” Mack agreed. While Leo watched, he reached out for Joey's hand, and the other man took it, squeezing Mack's fingers in his. “I'm guessing you don't have a problem with this aspect of it, though.”

At that, Leo had to laugh. “No. No, it would be pretty problematic for me if I had a problem with that aspect of it. Or, really, _any_ aspect of it. You guys are good by me.” Leo hoped that wasn't giving too much away, but, with the warmth of the alcohol coursing through him, the the feeling of his full stomach making him feel fully content, he couldn't be too worried. “And you have my discretion.”

“Please.” Joey said, not in a pleading tone, but almost conversational. “You can't talk about it with anyone.”

“Not even Grant.”

“Not even Grant.” Joey repeated with a nod, looking from Mack to Leo. “He's good, but we would just rather not have to worry about anything coming back to bite us in the ass.” Leo was nodding, while Joey continued on. “I hate it, a little bit. Pretending we're nothing more than professional partners. But it's the job, and it's what we have to do. End of the day, the others know I'm gay, so at least I'm not completely hiding who I am.”

“And, eventually, it will just become what it is. Just another thing. There are some couples on the force. Grant and Daisy were almost one for a while there, it seemed....”

“Yeah, we talked about that.” Leo said, feeling it important to impart to these men that he had been let into the inner sanctum of Grant's trust enough to know that Grant and Daisy had once considered a relationship. “But he said he couldn't ever follow through on that.”

“Yeah, that's how that went.” Mack said, looking at Leo closely. It was a searching look, and Leo wasn't sure how he felt about it. Put on the spot, for one, but not entirely uncomfortable. Knowing what he now did, being trusted with their secret, Leo felt even _more_ comfortable around the pair.

“But, fact is,” Mack continued. “Some day, it will just be what it is. As long as we aren't loud and boisterous about it? The brass won't notice or care. That tends to be the trend.”

When he spoke again, his words seemed much more directed to Joey than to Leo, and the journalist wasn't bothered by that. It was almost sweet, watching the way Joey seemed to relax when Mack said, “We just have to be a little patient, and the pay off will be good.”

Once they proved themselves capable of being a functional team, despite their fraternizing was what that meant, Leo supposed. That made sense. If life and the force permitted, he might just check up on the two officers now and again, after this was all over. He liked seeing happy endings. So many of the stories he exposed ended on bad or sour notes. Seeing the story of two gay minority police officers overcoming hurdles to prove themselves as a functional couple and functional professional pair? That was exactly the kind of story Leo would crave after a long month of corruption scandals and housing disputes.

They talked for a while, after that. Their topics started on sexuality, which was something that, generally, people should stay away from, before moving on to the case – the public details of it, anyway – and then celebrity gossip, aided by the news feed Leo had pulled up on his phone while they talked. Before long it was 10:30 PM and Leo was feeling as thought he might be able to sleep.

Not only that, but he was feeling like he and the men who were guarding him had forged a bond. The kind of bond that comes from sharing a closely guarded secret that only few would be allowed to know. Leo had only been let in thanks to catching the pair kissing in the front seat of Mack's car, but the fact that they hadn't shut him out, lied to him, or made it obvious that they would be requesting reassignment, was a good thing. It went a long way towards making them more than three individuals thrown in together, and more towards making them three individuals who may just stay friends when this was all over.

By the time Leo went to bed, he was feeling content and happy, which was a far cry from some of the emotions he'd felt that day. It was a good feeling, and when his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

It was just unfortunate that didn't stick.

His dreams, that night, were filled with images of faceless cops. Men and women with their features just so slightly undefinable as to make it almost unsettling when he tried to look at them. At first, they were simply figures on the street while he walked at Grant's side. But then, slowly, the dream took a more sinister turn. The faceless cops showed bloodied hands, and familiar faces started appearing; the dead bodies of Bobbi, Daisy, Joey and Mack littered their path, making it hard for Leo and Grant to escape the station.

Leo jerked awake when his alarm went off, stuck on the image of Grant being pulled back through the door of the underground parkade by scores of bloody hands, yelling for Leo to run.

It wasn't a pleasant start to the day. It left him feeling lethargic as he moved from his bed to the bathroom, to the shower, and back to his bed to dress. He'd been so out of it, thanks to the dream, that he nearly forget that there were two other people in his apartment until he swung the linen closet door shut and saw them sitting on the couch.

Joey was leaning into Mack's side, clearly caught up with something on his iPad, and the image of the two of them brought the discussions from last night rushing back. Leo clung to them like a lifeline, and willed the warmth of those memories to stick with him until the dream faded.

It wasn't going to be a good day if he carried that around with him from interview to interview.

It wasn't long after that that Grant arrived, bringing with him the smell of freshly brewed coffee. There was no McDonald's bag in his hand today, but Leo was all right with that, having just finished off a few slices of toast when Mack had gotten up to answer the knock at the door. With the lead detective there, they all gathered up their things for the day, and Leo locked up the apartment.

There was a more somber note to everything today, and Leo wasn't sure what was responsible for it. There were multiple possibilities. It could have something to do with the attack at city hall the day before, that had left a city councilman in hospital, the father of one of their colleagues. It could have been Leo's unwitting interrogation of Joey and Mack regarding their relationship and the way the force chose to deal – or not deal – with it. It could have been largely on the fact that he and Grant had seemingly uncovered the truth behind who Sitwell was – or, rather, wasn't – and that would shake the investigation and the force to the core.

No one liked one of their colleagues being dirty, and finding it out in the wake of Sitwell's murder was worse. There would be anger and hurt present in the officers who found out, and, were Sitwell alive, that would be justified. He had been murdered, however, by his accomplice, the man he had helped to orchestrate this attack on councilman Coulson, and that caused a whole slew of other emotions. Was it right to feel anger at Sitwell's betrayal while grieving his murder? Was it even possible?

Knowing the grim circumstances that they were wrapped up in made it easier for Leo to accept that, today, Grant just wasn't feeling as chatty as he had the day before. It made for a very quiet drive, and Leo was too hesitant to dare break it by asking what they were going to be doing on this shift. It didn't seem to matter enough to speak up. Leo know that whatever they ended up doing would benefit the case in some way. There was a new urgency there, with what had happened at City Hall. The sooner they solved this thing, the better.

That was an odd thing to think about. He was involved in solving a murder and attempted murder case. Even if the attachment to the case concerning City Hall hadn't been officially given over to Grant, there was no doubt in Leo's mind that the two were connected. There was just too much in common for them not to be. Not to mention the papers they had found outlining that 'Edward' had harboured a specific interest in the city official.

They pulled into the parkade underneath the station without having said a word to each other since they'd parted with Mack and Joey. Leo almost wished he'd started up _some_ kind of conversation. Being in the gloomy underground lot was bringing back all the nasty images and feelings from his dream, and in spite of himself, Leo felt goosebumps rising on the back of his neck while they walked from Grant's car to the inside door. It made him walk a little faster, keeping close to the taller man.

When they reached the door, Grant swiped his ID card, and held it open for Leo, not saying anything as he stepped in front and headed up the stairs that Leo now knew led into a long corridor behind the bullpen. He had expected for Grant to maintain the silence that had been the norm since they'd left his place, but he spoke once the door was shut behind them. It was so sudden and unexpected that Leo barely stopped himself from jumping, turning to look over his shoulder at Grant while they climbed the stairs.

“Figured we could start easy.” Grant was saying, one hand on the railing drilled into the wall, the other holding his coffee. The smell of it was still assaulting Leo's nostrils, but he had barely seemed to touch it while they'd driven. Maybe that was the blame for some of why Grant was so quiet today, as well. “Look at the footage around your place from the night your apartment was broken into. We might be able to spot the guy your neighbour identified. There's a chance, anyway. Neighbourhood like yours, I don't know what the nighttime foot traffic is like.” He took a sip of his coffee, and Leo turned back around to focus on the last few steps before they hit the back corridor. “I didn't see a whole lot when I was coming up, that night.”

Leo shook his head. “There isn't a lot. Not really. It's not a _bad_ neighbourhood. It just isn't a particularly _good_ one. People shouldn't and don't go wandering around much after a certain time of night.”

In the corridor, now, Grant took the lead again, his path telling Leo that they were going to be holing up in one of the small video reviewing rooms again. That wasn't the most attractive option, but he'd had the foresight to wear a hoodie, today, rather than a cardigan. As a plus to making him feel cozy and safe, it would be a wonderful shield against the cold, should they end up in the same review room as the day before.

They didn't, thankfully, but the room they ended up in wasn't much better, in Leo's eyes. It was almost the same, minus being a bit warmer, and maybe a foot wider. Thankfully, Grant smelled good, and his coffee smelled better, so Leo wasn't about to complain about the cramped quarters.

Unlike when they had been looking for Sitwell, it didn't take long to find someone who shouldn't have been wandering around Leo's neighbourhood, wandering around Leo's neighbourhood. He matched the description that Leo's neighbour in 3E, Audrey Nathan, had provided to the officers that night. He definitely looked like he would be taller than Leo by at least a few inches, and while the video was fairly colourless, his hair was dark. He hadn't had the presence of mind to bother covering up on his approach to the building which, to Leo, seemed stupid. If the man had been coming to kill him, he should have covered up better, or at least been aware of the CCTV cameras.

Then again, Leo himself wasn't aware that this particular camera existed, so maybe it could be excused.

“That's probably our guy.” Grant muttered. He was sitting hunched over, his coffee dangling from his fingers in one hand between his knees. “Haven't seen anyone else come up, and this would seem about right for when you texted me... Yeah?”

Leo looked over to see that Grant was no longer looking at the screen, but was instead looking at him, waiting for an answer. Leo nodded, and looked back at the screen, the uneasy feeling that his dream had left him with this morning growing. He was sitting here, safe and sound inside the police station, looking at footage of the man who had broken into his apartment, apparently to kill him, only a short while before that man had done just that. It wasn't a nice feeling. This guy was walking down the street like there was nothing that could possibly be bothering him. It appeared as though he didn't have a single hang up about the fact that he was about to attempt to kill another human being.

The goosebumps were back on Leo's neck, but he kept his gaze on the screen, watching while their suspect moved closer and closer still, until Leo could reach out and tap the space bar on the computer, freezing the image. These cameras were much better than Leo had expected, and with the image stilled, he had a fairly clear picture of the intruder. He didn't have many defining traits. The dark hair, and a square jaw were all Leo could really glean to distinguish him from any random Joe on the street.

“Look familiar?”

Grant's words were quiet, and maybe a little hopeful. Leo hated that he had to shake his head, before looking back at the detective.

“No.” He answered, sadly. “He doesn't. I've never seen him before in my life.”

Grant didn't nod, leaning forward to put his coffee cup on the desk, before he pulled the keyboard towards himself, tapping away on it. As he did, lime green boxes appeared on the screen, zooming in on the suspect's face before cropping and enlarging the image. Once it was enlarged, it was a little blurry, but not much worse for wear. Leo could still see the white of his eyes quite clearly.

“I'll send this to forensics. There's a whole division dedicated to running facial recognition software. With any luck, the points on this guy's face will match up to someone in the database.” Grant tapped a few more keys, and the image disappeared from the screen for a moment, replacing itself with a fresh e-mail document, dozens of e-mail addresses already plugged into the “To” and “CC” fields. Grant typed quickly, most of his message a shorthand that Leo could barely decipher, before he attached the image, and sent the message off.

Easy as that, they were on the trail of the man who had shown intent to kill him.

That blew Leo's mind, a little, and he was silent while Grant stood up.

“You all right?” Grant asked, noticing his silence, and the fact that he wasn't standing. “You sure you don't recognise him?”

There was a note of hope in the other man's voice, and Leo hated even more that he had to shake his head again, getting up from his seat. “No. It just seems a little... Crazy, that's all. How easy that was.”

“He wasn't very smart.” Grant said, simply, holding the door again for Leo so that the other could step into the hallway. Without prompting, he headed the direction he knew led to the bullpen. Whatever else Grant had planned for them today, that was the central hub of the station, and he would have to pass through it to get anywhere else. “Hey, listen...”

Leo stopped short, turning back around to face Grant. He was standing in the hallway, his still half full coffee cup in hand, looking like he was rethinking calling out to Leo. Clearly, he couldn't help but commit to it, however, because after a few seconds, he said, “How about I show you around this place a little? I called the girl from the platform. Her name's Callie Hannigan, and she _is_ a student at the local college. She's willing to meet with us after her morning class, so we have two hours to kill. Should give forensics some time to run. I was thinking I can show you around here, since you _are_ consulting with us, and then we could head out? After her, the train operator and booth attendant from that night are our next stop. They don't start their shift until an hour after she gets out of her class, so we can't go any earlier.”

Leo was smiling, and he wasn't sure why. Grant wanted to take some time and show him around the station while they waited to get results back on the facial scan, and before they could start their interviews for the day. Yes, it had a practical application; Leo needed to know certain things, considering he was consulting on this investigation. At the same time, it seemed like an oddly out of place and kind thing for the detective to do.

As such, who was Leo to turn him down?

“That'd be nice.” Leo said, waiting while Grant caught up with him. “I'd like not to feel like I'm going to get lost heading to the washroom without you beside me.”

Grant smiled. “I don't think you're going to get lost that easily, but I see your point. Come on. We're going to start in-- Oh, hey.”

Leo followed Grant's gaze, and saw the man he was looking at. He wasn't much shorter than Grant, with sandy blonde hair that seemed tousled like he'd just gotten out of bed. He was wearing jeans and a deep red long sleeve shirt, with an olive canvas jacket over top. There was a bag slung across his shoulders, knocking against his hip as he turned at the sound of Grant's voice.

Leo wasn't sure whether this was friend or foe, but the smile on the man's face when he saw who had spoken made Leo confident he was supposed to be there, at least.

“Hey, I was actually looking for you.”

“That's lucky.” Grant said, before looking at Leo and waving a hand at the newcomer. “Leo Fitz, this is Dr. Lincoln Campbell. He's the lead morgue attendant, over at the hospital.”

Looking at the young man approaching them, Leo wouldn't have pegged him for a doctor, much less a morgue attendant. That didn't stop him from holding out his hand for a shake, one that Lincoln gave with notable warmth and enthusiasm.

No, this was definitely not someone that Leo pictured playing with dead bodies all day.

“Detective Ward is joking. Sort of. I'm not a morgue attendant. I'm--”

“--Medical examiner. Same difference. You're playing with a dead body.”

Leo looked sharply over at Grant, who had his arms crossed over his chest, a somewhat faint smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Here was the schism Leo was sure Grant would be victim to: the police versus the guys in the background, helping them find the pieces of the puzzle.

It all went back to the time-tested tradition of jocks versus nerds.

For his part, Lincoln didn't seem too bothered by it. He was probably used to it, all things considered. “So, um... You're an engineer?”

Leo was taken aback by that question, so much so that he looked at Grant before looking back at Lincoln. “I'm... Well, I'm, well, yes, but I'm not...” Leo gathered his wits. “I'm not working in that field right now. I'm a journalist.”

Lincoln's grin widened and he nodded. “Right! Right, that was it. Sorry. Gossip spreads through the background pretty fast. We don't usually hire on consultants. You're the first one in a while, so everyone's been...” Lincoln mimed excessive talking with his hands. “Anyway. Good to have you helping out. This is a hell of a case.”

At the mention of the case, Lincoln's attitude seemed to change, darkening noticeably. He was no longer the friendly doctor, introducing himself. Once the case had been brought up, he was subdued, pulling him bag around from his hip to reach in and pull out a file. He handed it to Grant, who took it without a word, flipping it open.

“Sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, Mr. Fitz. I was coming by to hand deliver the files you asked for, Ward. They aren't pretty...”

“No...” Grant said in a distracted tone. He was flipping through the pages, the line of his mouth becoming more and more grim the more he saw. “They aren't. We're thinking self-inflicted?”

Lincoln nodded. “Definitely. There's no evidence on the back of the skull, the neck or shoulders that he was pushed. That was definitely what killed him, but if he'd been exposed to that weapon longer, and potentially restrained, it would have eventually done the job for him.”

Leo was acutely aware of what it was they were discussing, now.

Sitwell's death hadn't been inflicted, physically, by another individual. There was a good chance that the subsonic weapon they had retrieved had been placed there by someone who had wanted to kill him, and Sitwell's blood was still on that individual's hands. The fact of the matter, however, as Leo had suspected, was that Sitwell had been driven so wild by the subsonic pulses that he was being exposed to, that he had summoned enough strength to crack his own skull, fatally, against the side of the small table that had sat in the office's waiting room.

A weapon that was capable of things like that had never been meant to fall into the hands of someone who would use it to cause such heinous and brutal death.

Leo wrapped his arms tighter around himself, tuning back into the conversation between the medical examiner and the detective he'd been partnered with. There wasn't much cheery about it. Lincoln was confirming a few things – how possible it was for a human being to do that to themselves, how much damage Lincoln suspected had been inflicted by the device prior to Sitwell violently ending it. It wasn't anything Leo cared to listen to, and he drifted mentally, again, unwilling but unable to stop his mind from going back to the dream.

Faceless cops tearing him apart, limb from limb, skin from his bones, until he couldn't feel anymore...

“Well, I'd better get going.”

Lincoln's sudden return to a cheerful tone pulled Leo rather quickly from his revelry, and he looked up and over, smiling loosely when the man smiled his way.

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Fitz. Sorry it wasn't under better circumstances.”

“Oh, that's all right.” Leo said, shrugging. “I'm not meeting most people around here under _good_ circumstances, so this is par for the course.”

Lincoln's grin was bright and infectious. Leo couldn't help but think, again, how he seemed ill-suited to a cold room, bent over a colder body. “I guess not. Well, see you around. Don't hesitate to call or e-mail if you need anything, Ward.”

“Yeah. You too.” Grant answered, and the three of them parted, Lincoln heading back the way he'd come, Grant turning Leo down a side hallway.

He seemed a bit more distracted, now, which was to be expected. Part of Leo wanted to ask to see the file in his hand, but much of him was far too revolted at the prospect to even glance at where Grant was holding the thing. He'd seen Sitwell's body, freshly deceased, and that image wasn't likely to leave his brain any time soon. He didn't need a look at it spread out on an examining table. He'd leave it to Grant to pour over those images.

“You were saying? There was somewhere we should start?”

Leo had spoken mostly just to break the silence, but it served the purpose of getting Grant back on topic, and talking again, himself. When he was talking, he looked less lost, like he didn't know what to make of the things that were being laid out in front of him. To Leo, that was highly preferable.

“Right. I figured we could start in the media relations offices. They're the ones most likely to be... I don't know, I guess you'll probably relate to them better?” Grant glanced Leo's way, and then put a hand out to guide him down another hallway. Leo could hear a lot of voices up ahead. This hallway looked less like it belonged in a police precinct, mostly because what looked like interns were dashing back and forth across the hall, and the hall itself was lit up by the large dome glass ceiling that made up the ceiling at its far end. Leo recognized that dome. It was present in nearly all the press conferences that the police ran, the backdrop, against a sturdy brick wall and dark doors, that captains, detectives, and media personnel would stand in front of to inform the public about criminal going-ons in the city.

“Because they aren't actual cops, I assume?” Leo said, looking away from the dome, to Grant. The detective smiled, looking almost sheepish.

“Am I wrong for assuming you'll relate better?”

Leo thought about it while they approached the area all the interns were dashing around in. “No. Not entirely. But I'm more curious, and less about placating the masses.”

“I've noticed.” Grant said, in a tone that surprised Leo with its almost teasing note. “Here, let me introduce you to the head of the media relations department. Raina?”

They had come up to a large room with many desks, and many people. In the center of what, to Leo, seemed to be chaos, stood the woman he could only assume was Raina. In fact, he was sure of it, when she turned around and he saw her immediately memorable face.

Raina Blume was the face of the police force's media relations. While this station was the headquarters for the entire city's force, Leo had seen her in press conferences for precincts who were all the way on the other side of the area they covered. She was their media guru, and was always the one to introduce the member of the police who would be speaking to the media.

Her dark, curled hair and large brown eyes were some of her most notable features, though her easy smile was one that Leo could remember thinking was both reassuring and worrying. She had an air about her of confidence, and when she walked to join them, Leo couldn't help but feel like he was seeing some kind of inhuman being, someone who could see chaos and immediately find a way to calm and control it.

He supposed that was a good quality for her to possess. She was the one who needed to coach and guide the police members through their public addresses. She, in fact, wrote up much of what they ended up saying in front of the press. Her ability to keep those men and women on track, until the question periods that followed the delivery of investigation information, was admirable.

“Grant.” She greeted, in a voice that seemed on the verge of a laugh. “And I assume this is the consultant? The one who found...?” Her eyes went from Leo to Grant, and when the latter confirmed what she was thinking with a nod, she frowned. “I can't imagine how trying that was for you. Raina Blume.”

Leo took her outstretched hand, surprised to find that she had a firm handshake for someone who looked so small and fragile. That wasn't fair, he suspected. She was the head of media relations, and, really, not all that much smaller than him. Of course she would have a firm handshake. It went hand in hand with her commanding presence in the middle of chaos.

“Leo Fitz.” He introduced himself. “This all seems... Busy.”

“Oh, yes.” Raina's lips parted in a grin, again, and she clasped her hands together in front of her, turning slightly to survey was what happening behind her. “Captain Hand has a press conference in... Donnie, how long, now?”

A young man with dark, closely cut hair looked up at her, then at his watch. “53 minutes, Raina.”

Turning back to them, Raina nodded. “53 minutes. So, we're making sure that everything is together, and that all the press information packets are ready to go. We'll be heading outside shortly to set up the podium and hand out the press badges. Set up barriers...” She sighed. “It's not the best circumstances, but nothing about what I do really is. Not until we get to have conferences regarding the successful arrest of the people suspected of committing these crimes.”

“What's the conference today? About the attack?”

Raina nodded at Grant's question. “Yes. I've actually just heard from Sergeant Johnson, regarding her father. He's very hurt, but is in stable condition. The city is fine with us breaking that information to the press.”

Grant was frowning, and Leo could imagine why. It seemed like a bad idea to let the killer know that his attempt had failed. True, Coulson was laid up in the hospital, and there was a good chance the man already knew, but Leo knew how these press conferences tended to go. Inevitably, someone in the press would ask a question that would sound like the killer should have another go, considering they had 'messed up' so badly and failed to kill Coulson.

It was in this that Leo could see how Grant and the other detective may not be fond of the media side of the force, as useful as they were in keeping the public informed. It could make their jobs that much harder if even the smallest piece of questionable investigative intel got out into the public.

There wasn't much Grant could do about it, though. At least, not from where Leo was standing. If the police didn't tell the press, city officials would. It would be best coming from Captain Hand, and Raina.

“Is there anything you wanted to add to the conference, Detective Ward?” Raina asked, and if Leo wasn't mistaken, the look she was giving him was coy. “I was a bit confused when I didn't see your name on the list of attending force members...”

That seemed to hit a sore spot with Grant. When he spoke, his tone was almost gruff, and Leo felt almost embarrassed. Raina didn't seem to mind, however. “That investigation hasn't been linked to mine, yet, so Detective Palamas will be handling this conference.”

Raina nodded. “I did see her name. I don't know if she'll be speaking, but I know she'll have to step up for the question period.” The media director crossed her arms, and for the first time Leo noticed that was lavender dress she was wearing was stitched all over with flowers. Now that he'd noticed, he thought back to all the other conferences where he'd seen her standing to the side, or presenting the member of the force who would speak with the press.

She seemed to have a soft spot for flower dresses.

“I'm sure we'll be having another conference for your case soon, detective.” Raina said in a soft tone. Her smile was still in place, and Leo wasn't sure whether she was patronizing or placating the man. “I hear you've uncovered some rather alarming things.”

Grant glanced Leo's way, before he spoke. “Some things have come to light. I can't confirm them as of yet, but the investigation is going well.”

“Despite hindrances?”

The voice had come from up the hall, and Leo almost jumped, having not been expecting to hear anyone but the three of them, or one of the interns, for some time.

Leaning out past Grant, he saw a young woman walking towards them. She was wearing dark blue jeans and black boots with a slight heel to them, and over that a floral blouse that was covered by a green jacket. She had a badge hanging on a ball chain around her neck that identified her as a detective, and her dark hair was loose, falling over her shoulders. For Grant and Raina, she wore a smile. When her gaze landed on Leo, however, it seemed less sincere.

“Hey, Kara.” Grant said, and to Leo's surprise, he let her step into a hug. When they broke apart, both were smiling, and Leo noticed Raina giving him a pointed look.

There was history, there.

“How's the investigation going?” Grant asked, when they had both settled back a respectable distance in the hallway. Leo crossed his arms self-consciously, taking a step back to lean against the wall. This was detective talk, and he was less needed than he'd been a moment before. Raina, too, seemed to check out of the conversation, turning to talk to one of the interns about prepping Detective Palamas for the cameras.

“It's going.” Palamas answered, looking visibly annoyed. “Slowly. This guy didn't leave a whole lot that's new. We'll probably be pooling our investigations by the end of the day. The device was the same, and if what I'm hearing is right, the councilman may have been the target all along.”

There was no question in her tone, but Grant still nodded, confirming what Palamas was saying. “It'll be good to have you looking into that side of it. Bobbi's been assigned to that too, hasn't she?”

Palamas nodded, crossing her arms. “Yeah. We're working together on it. She's with ballistics right now, because there _were_ some shots fired. The security team got a little overzealous when they heard Coulson...” She let that sentence finish itself in their imaginations. Leo didn't want to think about what that had heard like from outside Coulson's office. “The security personnel all turned their weapons in for examination.”

Grant was shaking his head, and Leo could relate. This was all getting too big, and too involved. There were more moving pieces here than Leo had anticipated. Hopefully, with both himself and Grant, as well as Bobbi and Detective Palamas working on all sides of the investigation, it would be tied up soon.

“Hindrances, though?” Grant asked, and it was sudden, as thought he'd just remembered what the detective had said when she'd joined them. “I'm not...?”

“Oh.” Palamas looked at Leo, and it wasn't something that would be easily missed. It was deliberate, and Leo felt himself bristling under the accusation. Not only because he took offense to the idea of being a hindrance to Grant's investigation, but because he, himself, had worried about that very thing. Now, here was another detective, advising Grant that he did, in fact, have a hindrance in the form of the consultant he'd brought on. “I'm not meaning to give offense, here, but... Mr. Fitz, you're a journalist. Grant... You know how important this case is.”

“I'm helping on the investigative side.” Leo chimed in, hating how defensive he sounded. “My reputation when it comes to those things proceeds me.”

Palamas was looking his way again, and while there was nothing in her expression that showed dislike, Leo couldn't help but feel like he was being personally attacked. Her stance was valid, but he didn't like the accusation that he was holding Grant back. It made his own concerns and paranoias feel far too close to the surface.

“I'm aware. But this is a murder investigation, regarding the death of a police officer. You're involved, and, frankly, your _insistence_ that Grant bring you on to consult is a touch suspect, because of how involved you are with this.”

Leo wasn't leaning against the wall anymore. He was standing up straight, and though his arms were still crossed, his feet were planted, his expression defiant. His paranoias about what people perceived his motive to be, here, were roiling in his gut, and he needed to quiet them somehow.

Thankfully, and surprisingly, he didn't have to.

“Kara.” Grant spoke up, and when Leo looked at him, he was smiling. “I appreciate you looking out for my case and, trust me, I know that bringing him on wasn't...” Grant seemed to be casting around for words, and Leo felt like he was holding his breath, hoping for something that wasn't _too_ damning. “Well advised. But he's been really, really helpful, and I don't know if I couldn't have gotten here, this fast, without his help. So...”

Kara sighed, smiling now, herself. “My concern is well placed but unnecessary?”

_You're damn right_ , Leo thought.

“That's about it.” Grant agreed. “I appreciate it, though.”

“I'm sure Mr. Fitz will continue to be a wonderful help, detective.”

Raina had reinserted herself in the conversation with finesse. One of her hands was on Kara's shoulder, the other on her own hip, and she was smiling at each of them in turn.

“But I'm going to need Detective Palamas, now. So, I'm sure I will see you tomorrow, and if not, the day after, and thank you for stopping by. It was wonderful to meet our consultant, but...”

“We get it.” Grant said, still smiling. It was an easier smile than he'd been wearing earlier, and Leo marveled at it, just a little. “We'll clear out. Give me a shout if you need anything?” He added to Palamas.

“I will.” She smiled up at him, and patted his upper arm, before letting Raina pull her into the room to prep for the conference.

Grant led the way back up the hall from where they'd come, and after missing a few paces, Leo followed along, feeling decidedly less stable than he had before the other detective had arrived.

It made sense that there were members of the force, and other detectives especially, who were questioning Grant's decision to bring him on as a consultant. As Palamas had said, he was a journalist. There was little in his day to day job that could be applied to this case, and it was only thanks to his reputation for being a rather good _investigative_ journalist that he'd even been able to make a case for himself.

Still, having it pointed out like that, not just that he was on flimsy footing for being a consultant, but that his insistence on being involved was shady, was messing with Leo's head. He'd had his reasons. For one, he felt like he was being framed, and even after that, for another, there had been an attempt made on his life. Leo wasn't one to sit back and hope that things would end better. He needed to be hands-on about things, in almost everything he did. His own life, and the investigation of something that implicated him in a considerably damning way, were things that warranted him being hands on.

It didn't change that he was feeling much less confident about his place in this investigation. Even if Grant had stood up for him, and, in a way, sung his praises, it didn't change what the facts were.

There were people who saw him as, at best, a hindrance to Grant's investigation, and at worst, a potential suspect.

Leo would just have to prove that thinking wrong.

 


	9. Chapter 9

It turned out that Callie Hannigan was more than willing to talk about the strange man who had been on the platform with her at Mavis terminal that night. Especially when she'd gotten an eyeful of the lead detective. While they'd spoken to her, getting a breakthrough in that she could provide a detailed description of him, Leo had found himself wondering if this was common for Grant. It was no small detail that the man was attractive. He was tall, with dark hair and rich brown eyes, and when he smiled, he was almost movie star handsome. Leo had seen him turn on the charm at the transit commission building, and while he wasn't having to do that here, his looks definitely seemed to be an asset.

A fact that Leo was confident of, mostly because Callie didn't spare him more than a few glances here and there, even though he was the often the one asking questions, while Grant simply was writing down her answers, despite the recorder on the coffee table between the three of them.

That wasn't something Leo was about to ask Grant, though. It didn't seem appropriate, especially after Detective Palamas had voiced her opinion, to ask Grant if being handsome often helped him with cases. Maybe, once this was all over, 'Edward' was caught, and they were going their separate ways, Leo would ask. For now, he kept it to himself, along with his vague hope that going their separate ways wouldn't mean they never spoke again. With Grant more animated now, his coffee done and the two of them out on interviews, Leo was being reminded how much he liked the detective. He would be a good friend to have, even if, Leo suspected, he wouldn't be as open as Mike Peterson to being a source or contact for Leo's future stories.

“She's got a pretty good memory, that girl.” Leo commented as he climbed into Grant's Charger. Grant walked around to the driver's side and slid in, closing the door before he replied.

“She does, if it matches what the operator and the booth attendant have to say.” Grant agreed. “If either of them even noticed him. I don't know how they couldn't. The terminal was basically abandoned, anyone coming in at that time would be someone I would take a look at. Always the chance that they're lost or drunk or who knows what.”

He started the car, and pulled out into traffic, heading away from the downtown student housing area, and towards the Mavis terminal. “Good job in there, by the way.”

Leo looked away from the sidewalk, where he was watching while people milled, weaving around each other to get to wherever it was they were going. Normally, he was one of them. It was quite nice to have regular transport in Grant's car, these last few days. “Oh. Uh, thanks. I was just trying to make sure we got at everything she could remember.”

“I know.” Grant looked his way, and Leo couldn't help smiling in response to the smile on the detective's face. Whatever else, Grant was genuinely impressed with him. That worked wonders for Leo's confidence, after he'd been cast into questionable light not so long ago. “It was really well done, and you really kept with her. I don't know if I would have been able to keep digging like you did. I thought a few times you were just asking her the same question, again, and you _were_ , but it was the way you changed the wording that seemed to throw her off and get her talking. That's the journalism, I assume?”

Leo was sure he was flushing a little under the praise from Grant, but, thankfully, his cheeks didn't feel hot. Only the back of his neck, and that he could live with. Considering Grant was driving, he was unlikely to notice that. “That's how I usually dig to get stuff out of people, yeah. People don't really need a whole lot of prodding, generally, but when you need as much information as possible out of them...”

Grant nodded. “You keep pushing until you're positive they've run dry.”

Leo made an affirmative sound. “That's the general idea, yeah.”

They drove on in silence for a little while, the only break in it being the noise of the road around them. It was a nightmare to drive through the city sometimes, and mid-morning was one of those times. Leo was just shifting in his seat, getting more comfortable, and about to ask Grant how often he got stuck in traffic on investigations, when the other man spoke up.

“I wouldn't worry too much about what Kara said.”

Those words sent Leo flying right back into that hallway outside Raina's control room, and the detective whose words had left him feeling so off balance. “Uh... I wasn't.” Leo lied.

Grant didn't seem to buy that for a second, and when Leo looked over, he was giving him a flat look, his foot still on the brake while they waited for the light to change. “I know she got under your skin. There's no shame in it. That's kind of what she does. She's very good at getting people to break that way. It gets her information from difficult suspects, more often than not. And, in her defense...”

Leo didn't think she needed any defense. He knew her stance and he understood and respected it. There was no defense necessary.

He didn't say that, though.

“You did come into the picture under pretty _weird_ circumstances, and bringing a journalist on as a consultant isn't exactly something we do often. She has reasons to think that maybe I'm botching the case.”

“Have you ever botched a case before?” Leo asked, surprising himself with how quickly and snappish it came out.

“No.” Grant answered, and if his tone sounded annoyed, Leo wasn't shocked. He would be annoyed, too, if he'd been in Grant's position. “Regardless, you can't blame Kara for thinking maybe there's something off about bringing you on. I'm not _saying_ there is.”

Grant added the last part as Leo opened his mouth, taking a breath to argue. It effectively killed his rebuttal in his throat and Grant continued on.

“And she was maybe a little out of line, calling you a hindrance. But she meant well, and, if I were you, I wouldn't bother worrying about what she said. What I just saw, and what I've seen, proves that neither she, nor I, nor anyone, have anything to worry about when it comes to you. Got it?”

Leo wanted to argue. He wanted to argue that he _could_ worry about what she'd said, simply because she wasn't entirely wrong on all counts. He didn't, though. He dropped it, and moved on to something else.

Something to the tune of, “All right, so what is it with you two? Raina was giving me this _look_ , and--”

“--We used to date.”

That had been much easier than Leo had expected, and for a good minute, he was quiet, looking from the traffic, to Grant, studying his profile while he guided the car down the busy street. Movie star looks, a near thing with Daisy, and a confirmed thing with Kara. Leo was beginning to get the idea that Grant was some sort of playboy.

“Are there any members of the force you _haven't_ courted?”

Grant rolled his eyes, and Leo smirked in triumph. That one had landed.

“I didn't court her. It was early on, and it was nice for a while but in the end, we both wanted different things. We're still close, but I'm not planning on falling into bed with her any time soon.”

Leo felt pleasantly smug, learning all that. Just a few days before, he was sure that Grant wouldn't have stooped to telling him his middle name. Now, he was easily giving up details of his personal life, even if those details were long past.

Learning that Grant and Kara had moved on from their relationship amicably was a plus, as well, for a few reasons. Some of them, Leo didn't feel particularly proud of, but he acknowledged them, privately, nonetheless. In the least, it was assurance that Kara wouldn't question Grant's investigation simply because of Leo, if it was going to slow Grant down on completing what was turning out to be a vastly twisted case.

Their interviews with the train operator and booth attendant were the real gold, after their interview with Callie.

Grant had given Leo the lead to go ahead and take point on both interviews. He had written notes while Leo had spoken with each of the men in turn, in a room that had been provided to them for this purpose. The train operator had seen significantly less of the man that had gotten onto the subway at nearly 2 in the morning. He had been able to describe him, loosely, however, and Leo got a rush knowing that what he described matched what Callie had told them.

The booth attendant was the interview that Leo felt the best about. Not only had the booth attendant noticed the man who had come into the terminal so late, he had been careful to memorize details about him. This man, the attendant said, had left him with an uneasy feeling. It was the same feeling that Leo knew led retail employees to follow potential thieves through stores. That feeling was proving useful for them, now, because the booth attendant was able to provide them with a detailed description of the man's clothes, his hair, and hat, and even his general height and weight.

By the time they left Mavis terminal, Leo was beaming, feeling on top of the world. Grant's wide grin wasn't helping him squash down that triumphant feeling. The detective seemed more than just slightly pleased with the work that he'd been able to achieve, using the same tactics with the operator as he had with Callie, and being open and encouraging with the attendant, jogging his memory with ease.

If that was being a hindrance to the investigation, then Leo would wear his title with pride.

“Damn good job, Leo.” Grant said, as they climbed into his car. Pulling his phone out, he looked over the few messages he'd received while they were in the terminal. “All right. Forensics says the recognition scan is about 75 percent done. I'd say that means we have time to grab a quick bite, because I'm starving, and I owe you lunch after those interviews you just did.”

When he looked across the center console at Leo, he was grinning, bright and easy, and Leo's stomach flipped at the sight.

Ignoring it, he nodded, proud as he leaned back in his seat and pulled his seatbelt on. “I agree. You have a place in mind?”

Grant laughed softly, dropping his phone onto the holder that was placed on his dash, and reaching for his own seatbelt. “I do. And you're going to love it.”

 

 

 

Leo was beginning to admit to himself that he had to admit a few things about Grant.

The first thing was that, despite their short acquaintance, the detective was proving why he had been given this assignment in the first place. They had only known each other for a roughly half a week, and yet, when Grant had said with such bold confidence that Leo was going to love the place he took them for lunch, he hadn't been wrong. The fact of the matter was that, yes, Leo _did_ love it, and the fact that Grant had known he would astounded him.

It was a place he'd never been before, but despite its distance from his apartment, he would make an effort to come back here again. The small diner was set in between a pawn shop and a drycleaner, and when Grant had pulled up, Leo had harboured a few misgivings about the quality of the food they were about to get. Those misgivings had been misplaced. Once they had stepped inside, Leo had been surprised to find that the black and white checkerboard floor was waxed and polished until it shone, and that the booths ringing the perimeter of the diner boasted what looked to be brand new red leather seats. There were no cracks or creases from what he could see, which was amazing, especially in this part of town. Photos of old movie stars and musicans from the 1940s all the way to the 1970s adorned the walls, and the tables were all clean, with fresh cutlery and napkins laid out on them. It wasn't the largest diner Leo had ever been in, by any stretch, but it was clean, and cute, and it had a charm that Leo was attracted to immediately.

Once they'd been seated, and Leo had opened the menu, he'd been assured that he needed to reassess how well he thought Grant knew him, because the menu in front of him, with promises of endless fries or onion rings with any burger, was calling to him.

“How did you find this place?” Leo asked, after thanking the waitress who'd brought their drinks. Grant had ordered a coke, and was busy sliding the red straw he'd been given into the glass. Leo, not about to pass up the chance of something _more_ , especially with the tone of this place, had ordered a chocolate milkshake, and he wasn't disappointed. It was just as big as the waitress had hinted it would be, topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a bright red cherry.

Grant was eying it, now, while he sipped his coke. Leo considered making a comment about how he should have gotten one of his own, while the other answered his question. “Lincoln, actually. He does mess around with dead bodies all day, but the guy is pretty great, and he has great taste in food. I have a feeling he only knows about it because of Trip, though.” At Leo's look of confusion, Grant expanded. “Antoine. Daisy's fiance.”

Leo nodded, remembering that Grant had called the man that once before, when they'd been talking about Daisy. “What makes you say that?”

Grant smiled, reaching over to pull the little paper triangle with the monthly specials on it towards him. “Because Trip has good taste. He knows how to have a good time, because he used to rarely have much time off. He'd make sure if he was on 'vacation', that he made the most of it. And that would _definitely_ include a place like this. Good food, and great prices? Where else are you going to find that, in this city?”

He had a point, and Leo had to give him that. It wasn't hard to find the generic chain restaurants in this city. The ones that offered sit-down meals at decent prices. It was just that the food got fairly boring after a while, and sometimes Leo craved something with a different kick to it. That seemed to be what he was finding now, with this diner, and he was thankful to Grant, or Lincoln, or Antoine. Whichever of them had been responsible for this diner finding its way into Leo's orbit, he was grateful to.

But, most especially, Grant. The detective had done a lot of things for him over the last few days that he didn't necessarily have to do. He'd allowed Leo the chance to explain himself and make his case for why he should be brought on to help with the investigation. Past that, he'd actually _brought_ Leo on for the investigation. Leo had never actually asked him how difficult that had been to secure, but he imagined that it hadn't taken a simple quick text informing his superior that he was about to bring in a journalist, of all people, to help with the Sitwell case.

He'd come when Leo had texted, panicked, hiding in his own closet, without argument. He'd put Leo in his car and made sure he was safe before bringing him back to the station and leaving him in a warm and personable room, rather than the interrogation box they'd first met. Even if he'd left him alone for a while, Leo had appreciated it. He had given him the courtesy of having a space in which he could try and relax, rather than a locked room where he would probably have been more panicked than before.

Grant had made sure he had a protective detail, following the attempt on his life, and though Leo didn't know the specifics, he was sure Grant had hand-picked Joey and Mack. There was just too much to the two of them for him to suspect otherwise. He'd thought that Leo would like and get along with them, and he was right, for more reasons than just that they were nice guys.

In the investigation thus far, Grant had been accommodating and patient, and had made it easy for Leo to get involved. He honestly felt like he was helping Grant in solving this, despite the paranoia and doubt that Kara's words, earlier, had brought to the forefront of his mind. He wasn't simply having Leo tag along. He was putting Leo forward, with him, and relying on Leo as a partner, not just backup.

And then there was the fact that Grant had stood up for him when Kara had laid out, correctly, the reasons why it seemed ill-advised to have brought Leo on.

Following all that up with the trip to this diner, and Leo couldn't help but feel fond towards Grant, and thankful towards him. He had given Leo chances, and been as kind as possible. It was shocking, having come from a detective who had been gruff and hard and on the edge of shutting Leo down when they'd met in that parkade the first night.

All of that was playing at the back of Leo's mind while they had chatted, idly, about Leo's past stories. There was a large library of them to go through, and Leo was amused to find that Grant had apparently at least skimmed it. He'd asked about everything from stories on politicians to the damned cat show that Leo had been forced to cover for money, way back when. By the time their food had come, Leo was laughing at the memory of a shocked intern being asked, point blank, why they thought _someone_ would _dare_ to skim funds from a local politician's charity. That intern had later been sacked for that exact act, but Leo would never forget the way he'd tried to explain away just why someone would do such a thing.

They had ordered the same thing for lunch, and Leo dug in with gusto, savouring the burger that he'd had put in front of him, and looking forward to the onion rings. That was where they'd differed. Leo was keen to try the rings, but Grant had stuck with fries, silently sliding a somewhat squashed package of gum across the table to Leo after they'd ordered. That had made Leo laugh almost as easily as the memory of the intern's face.

By the time Leo was halfway through his rings, it appeared that this lunch was becoming less of a quick stop to stuff their faces before moving on, and more of a quick stop for food while getting to know each other. He'd dared to prod about Grant's personal life while they had been enjoying their burgers, and to his mild shock, Grant hadn't shut him out. Maybe it was the high of the successful interviews, but Leo wasn't going to dare to shut him up.

He'd learned, so far, that Grant was the second eldest of four children. Grant's father was a property manager for a large national chain, but it was the career of his other parent and oldest sibling that amazed Leo. His mother had been an advisor to the state senator for most of his life, and his older brother, Christian, was currently serving as the Republican senator. That surprised Leo, but not terribly so. From the way Grant spoke about his older brother, they weren't close, and he didn't seem fond. There was a story there, but it didn't seem the type to be told over fries and rings in a diner at lunch.

His other siblings, a brother Thomas and a sister Charlotte, Grant spoke about with much more warmth. Thomas was an aspiring musician, who worked a day job at a jewelry store. Charlotte was a realtor, and had published a few mystery novels on the side. Grant had taken out his phone and slid it across the table to Leo to show him both of them. He hadn't needed the photo reference for Christian Ward, he knew the face well. Thomas Ward was a tall man, about Grant's height, Leo would guess, or possibly taller. He had brown hair that looked like it took a bit of convincing to tame, and a smile that promised a joking personality. Charlotte, in the photo Grant showed him, seemed shorter than her brothers by quite a few inches, and had long dark brown hair. In the photo, she was laughing, and Leo was amused to see that he could spot the family resemblance between her and her older brother Grant.

As for Leo, he had grown up an only child. His father had left when he was barely older than two, and his mother had needed to raise him on her own. She'd held down two jobs for most of Leo's childhood; one as a cashier at a local grocery store, working overnights three times a week, and another as a receptionist for a clinic. Leo had spent quite a few nights sleeping over at the neighbours' while his mum worked, but as soon as he was able, he'd gotten himself a job. Nothing glamorous, working the till at a coffeeshop, but he'd brought in a paycheck, and it had helped him with his schooling.

“So, you're an only child, and I'm a guy who has two brothers and a sister.”

“Don't forget the political leanings in your family.” Leo pointed out, rudely talking around the onion ring in his mouth. “My family doesn't have that.”

Grant smiled, picking at his fries. “Yep. Politics, and property. And then you have Tom and I in law and jewelry, so I guess we're the odd ones out.”

With a shrug, Leo said, “I guess I wouldn't know what that's like. Oddest thing I've done is...” Leo hesitated on this fact. It wasn't something he thought was pertinent to his character, and it certainly wasn't the most interesting thing about him. It also didn't help that Leo wasn't sure how Grant would react to hearing it, but he suspected that the outcome might not be so bad. Grant didn't seem close-minded enough to shut down in the face of the admission Leo was toying with. “I don't know. Be gay? I guess that's different from my mum.”

As Leo had hoped, Grant didn't flinch at the mention of Leo's sexuality. He barely even looked up, and that made Leo feel more settled. He didn't want it to be something that Grant wanted to scrutinize him on. Leo had to admit to himself that there were reasons he didn't want to fully acknowledge yet that made him happy Grant didn't appear as though he was about to dig.

“Would be, I'd say.” Grant agreed, popping a ketchup-dipped fry into his mouth. Leo thought that might be the end of it, but then Grant said, “Is it rude to say something like 'I figured'?”

Leo laughed, almost relieved that _that_ was what the detective had to ask about it. There had been times when Leo's sexuality had been put on the table, only for the next words out of a friend's mouth to be 'if you're gay, do you have a crush on me?' It wasn't something he relished rebuffing, time and time again, and in this case, he was glad he didn't have to answer it at all.

“Um, no. Jemma's told me that I'm not blatant but it's fairly obvious if you know what you're looking for.”

Grant nodded, dragging one of his last fries through the puddle of ketchup on his plate. “Well... Not saying that you are, but if you're sitting over there worrying that it'll change how we work together, it won't. It's just who you are, and like I said, I figured.” He looked up, and shrugged one shoulder. “If I had a problem with it, I wouldn't get along so well with Mack and Joey. Besides, it isn't like I haven't dabbled. I think most people have.”

Leo had been caught on the fact that Grant had mentioned Mack and Joey specifically. For a second, he'd had a terrible concern that, somehow, he'd slipped up and mentioned something about the couple to Grant without realizing. That concern passed by quickly, however, because Leo didn't think he'd ever be that careless – he usually wasn't – _and_ because of what Grant had admitted next.

It was hard not to ask about that. They both seemed to be in a sharing mood, and Grant had just said he'd 'dabbled' with the same sex. Part of Leo wanted him to explore that further, but most of him was reigning that in, knowing that doing such a thing would open a can of worms neither he nor Grant had the time to deal with while this case was still open.

With some difficulty, Leo simply hummed and nodded, feeling caught when Grant grinned at him.

“What?”

“You don't have to worry about thinking you slipped up. I know already. Most of us know already.”

Leo was sure his heart was pounding hard enough for Grant to hear it across the table.

“They're doing a pretty good job of keeping it quiet, but there's little things here and there that make it obvious they're together. I figured they might have told you, you looked a bit spooked when I mentioned them.”

Mack and Joey.

He was talking about Mack and Joey.

Leo did his best not to sigh heavily at the rush of calm that coursed through him when he figured that out. That was an admission he would be happy to nod along with, at least right now.

“They asked me to keep it quiet.” He said, softly, as though Mack or Joey might pop up from the next booth and call down the wrath of heaven on him for breaking the promise he'd made to keep his mouth shut.

“And you did.” Grant told him, signaling for the bill. Leo reached for his wallet and Grant muttered a firm 'put that away', before he continued. “They just aren't aware of how obvious they are about things. No one really has an issue with it. It's an old, outdated rule.”

Their bill was laid on the table, along with a couple of mints. Leo had already helped himself to one of the sticks of gum Grant had half-jokingly offered, but he flicked one of the hard candies Grant's way, pocketing the other. Leaving two bills on the table – that would add up to their bill plus a healthy tip – Grant stood, a motion that had Leo doing the same.

“We should probably head back to the station.” He said, leading the way back out into the sunlight. His Charger was gleaming as they approached, Grant slipping on a pair of sunglasses while Leo fumbled in his bag for the same. “We can drop off this recorder with the sketch artist, if he's free, and swing by forensics. I'm pretty sure the facial recognition should be done by now, if it's going to find anything.”

The car beeped between them, the locks thumping up into the unlocked position, and Leo pulled open the passenger door, sliding in and getting comfy. “Sounds like a good plan to me.” With a grin, he looked over at Grant, tugging his seatbelt across his chest. “Let's roll.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Their stop by the station was surprisingly brief. As they had pulled into Grant's spot, his phone had gone off with a message about the facial scan being done. They had hurried into the building proper, Leo on Grant's heels as they'd stopped by the offices for the sketch artists. There had been a few of them in there, but Leo hadn't been able to catch more than a few names. The one who had taken the recorder from Grant's hand with an impatient, 'yes, yes, hurry, hurry' had been named Elena. Once the recorder was safe in her hands, cued up, with the promise of a sketch by sundown, Grant had been off again, Leo hurrying to keep up.

Things were happening much faster in this case, now. The uncovering of who it was that had killed Sitwell and attacked Coulson didn't seem so far away anymore.

The facial recognition scan had born fruit, and while the quality of the photo had led to a few likely suspects, Grant had been able to wean the three of them down to one, only. One suspect was currently behind bars, the other possible but unlikely, given that fact that it was a woman, while Audrey and Leo had both been adamant that the suspect was male.

That left them with one Brian Hayward, a former military member who had been honourably discharged, only to start wracking up a dishonourable list of offenses with the local police. Murder wasn't on the list of his missteps, but aggravated assault, assault with a weapon, and breaking and entering all were, along with public indecency, resisting arrest, and uttering threats. Leo suspected, given the list of other offenses and how often they repeated, it was unlikely that _uttering_ those threats hadn't ended in _acting_ on those threats for the man whose face matched the one they had seen on CCTV footage.

Due to that long list of offenses, thankfully, they had at least one address, current as of three months prior. They had returned to Grant's car with Grant saying that there was, of course, a slim chance that Hayward had moved since they had gotten that address update. For the sake of this investigation, however, both he and Leo were crossing their fingers that the regular offender hadn't done anything of the sort.

“If this doesn't pan out...” Leo started, flipping through Hayward's file while Grant found parking on the street a few blocks away. “He's got a work address listed here, too. Stockboy at a hardware store.”

“He's a big guy.” Grant said, reaching over to hook his arm behind Leo's seat as he backed them into a spot along a moderately busy road. His Charger wouldn't look too out of place here, and that was a good thing. The last thing they needed right now was to be made on the local appearance of a known 'cop car'. “That would be good work for him. Where's that?”

Leo consulted the address, and then the map he'd pulled up on his phone. “Huh. Not far from here. About a ten minute walk from his place, I'd guess?”

The Charger parked expertly, Grant turned back around in his seat and took the keys from the ignition, looking over at Leo while he took his seatbelt off. “Feeling all right about this? You can hang back. Trust me, I understand. This is potentially the guy who broke into your apartment, and may have been attempting to kill you.”

Leo shook his head firmly, closing the folder they'd been given and hurrying to get out of the car, in an effort to show his willingness to get this done. “No. I'm good. You're here, so what could go wrong, right?”

Grant didn't bother hiding the smile on his face at those words, and replied, “All right,” before leading the way down the street. They walked in silence, which probably made them look a little suspect, but Leo didn't think he wanted Hayward feeling any sense of safety, if he _was_ the man who'd broken into his apartment. Leo remembered all too well the sensation of fear and the possible promise of death that Hayward's presence had brought into his home that night. He wasn't feeling charitable enough not to want their suspect to feel even slightly off-kilter, should he see them coming.

That was the part of this that seemed tricky. Leo had been Hayward's intended victim, but Grant wasn't outright telling him he _couldn't_ come along. There was a good chance that Leo's face would trigger Hayward into running, or worse, attacking. Grant seemed ready for both of those possibilities, though, given that he hadn't insisted that Leo stay at the station, or stay in the car. Maybe he thought Leo was more capable of handling what may happen than Leo thought he did. That was a big confidence boost, and while they headed up to Hayward's walk-up building, he felt a swell of pride.

If Detective Grant Ward thought that he, journalist Leo Fitz, with an engineering degree that had been collecting more dust than use, was capable of handling whatever might come of this encounter, then that meant a lot. That meant that Leo was absolutely more than people tended to write him off as, and this detective, who had once seemed like he would be only too happy to write Leo off, had changed his mind. That was all on Leo. He had reason to feel proud.

That high was cut short when they got to Hayward's apartment, however, and after three rounds of knocking – none too gentle, Leo noted – that had culminated in Grant raising his voice and announcing that they were police, they had gotten nowhere. There was no balcony that Hayward could have escaped off of, and a quick survey of the building had assured them that there was no back exit from the place. It wasn't the most glamorous or accessible building, that was for certain. While that had seemed in their favour, before, it was somewhat frustrating now, because it meant that it was unlikely that Hayward was slipping away from them. He either simply wasn't home, or he'd seen or known they were coming, and took off.

“You lookin' for Brian?”

Leo managed not to jump at the sound of the voice, and looked over at the open door of the next apartment to find a man, maybe in his forties, leaning out. He had sandy brown, nearly gray, hair, and milky eyes that would have been a dead giveaway if Leo hadn't seen the white and red cane in his hand.

“Yes, sir, we are.” Leo said, approaching by a few feet. “Would you happen to know where he would be?”

“That jackass is probably lying dead in a ditch somewhere.”

That wasn't the response Leo had expected, and it almost startled him, the venom with which the neighbour said it. Looking back at Grant for a second, he was encouraged by the 'go on' gesture the detective gave him, and turned to the man again, continuing. “Not fond of him?”

“No. He's always banging in and out at the worst hours, has people coming by, yelling for him. Cops are around here at least once a month. What's he done this time?”

“We just need to speak to him.” Leo said, not wanting to give too much away. “We believe he might have some information for a case we're working on. If you see – erm – hear him come home...?”

The neighbour shook his head. “I haven't seen him.” Leo couldn't help cringing at that. It had been a bad slip up. “Haven't heard him for a few days either, though. Two or three? If I hear him though, I can give you guys a call. You got a card that comes in braille?”

Leo looked back at Grant, finding him hiding a smirk behind his hand. That, Leo thought, could only be at his expense, due to the 'if you _see_ him' slip-up. Leo scowled, while Grant pulled out his wallet and slipped a business card out of it.

“Hm. These don't have braille on them. Seems...”

“Seems pretty damn exclusionary to me, officer.”

The man's tone was conversational, and Leo took it as his turn to smirk, before he asked the man for his cell phone. “I can program the number for the station hotline in here for you, if you'd like. I can put it under Detective Ward.”

“Yeah, sounds good. You're a smart one, aren't you?”

“So they tell me.” Leo said, lightly, taking the man's phone. The assistive technology in it was immediately obvious, something Leo had never gotten to really look at, being fully capable himself. He kept himself from examining how each change interacted with a person who was blind, and instead programmed the tips hotline number into it. “There. If you hear Mr Hayward, if you could give that number a call, that would be a huge help to us.”

“I'll do that.” The man said, taking the phone back from Leo, and tucking it back into his jeans' pocket. “My name's Gordon, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Gordon. My partner is Detective Ward, and I'm--”

“--Officer Mishka.” Grant cut in, causing Leo to look over with furrowed eyebrows. That wasn't an alias they had discussed. In fact, they hadn't discussed aliases for Leo at all. That didn't slow Gordon down, however.

“Sounds Russian.”

“It is.” Grant answered for Leo. “Thank you for your time, sir, and if you can please let us know if Mr. Hayward makes an appearance, that would be very appreciated.”

Gordon informed them that he would, and he retreated back inside his apartment while Grant led Leo to the stairs, and back down to the ground level. They were a good fifteen feet from the apartment building, heading in the direction of Hayward's work, when Leo finally burst, unable to keep himself from asking much longer.

“Mishka?”

“It's the first thing that came to mind.” Grant said, not looking over while they walked.

“Okay.” Leo said slowly. “And... what does it mean? You speak Russian?”

“I speak six languages.” Grant answered, and if Leo wasn't mistaken, there was a hint of a smirk on his face. The asshole was pretty proud of his six languages. He had reason to be. That was damn impressive. “And it means Little Bear.”

Leo almost stopped dead on the sidewalk, but kept in motion due to the sheer force of his incredulity. “You told that man that my name was _Officer Little Bear_?”

There was no doubt that Grant was smirking now. He looked down at Leo and nodded. “Yep. I sure did.”

Leo stared up at him for a few second while they walked, and then blew out a breath, throwing his hands up. “Nothing else came to mind?”

“I don't think there's anything else that I could have called you, to be honest.” Grant replied, his tone notably smug, now. He'd been able to pull off an alias for Leo was wasn't immediately detectable as ridiculous, unless someone spoke Russian, and Leo hadn't been able to get around him using it. Leo hadn't even known what it meant until a few seconds ago. “Officer Turbo was going to sound fake as hell. And stupid. Like a bad B-movie.”

Leo had to, grudgingly, admit that Grant had a point. He needed an alias, and Grant's on the spot thinking had stopped him from saying his real name then and there. That had been an act that may have ended up tipping off Hayward if he somehow found out who had been to visit his apartment and spoken with his next door neighbour. It was a slim chance, but it was better than they didn't give their suspect more information than he needed, before they were able to talk to him themselves.

The walk to Hayward's work took a little less than ten minutes, but it was no more successful than their trip to Hayward's home. His manager, in a somewhat annoyed fashion, told them that he hadn't seen Hayward for over a week. The man had missed four shifts without a call or explanation, and, should he show up again, he would be fired for shift abandonment. Grant and Leo thanked him for his time, and, with him, Grant left one of his cards, extracting a promise to call if Brian made an appearance back at his place of work.

What had been a high at the realization that their CCTV footage had resulted in a positive facial match had turned out to bear little fruit. They had nothing more to go on, at the moment, as no one seemed to know where Hayward could have gone, or could now be. As they drove back to the station, Grant told Leo that they would just have to wait and see if his neighbour or coworkers ended up seeing him, and called. There was the added benefit that they could circulate his name, description and image to the local media outlets, along with the tip hotline number. With any luck, _someone_ would call in a credible tip.

This was what a lot of police work was, Grant explained. Searching, waiting, and hoping that the pieces would come together to make the final picture. Leo understood that, but it was still frustrating. They had been painfully close to locating the man who had tried to kill him – and Leo had no real doubts that that had been Hayward's intention – but had come up empty-handed.

Still, they were close. They were very close, and Leo had to remember that, before he let himself get caught up in the disappointment that the latter half of their day had brought.

Besides, it wasn't too, too late, yet, and Leo had made plans. It had been a few days since he and Jemma had seen each other, her busy with work, and he with this investigation. They'd made plans to meet up and spend the night together, which would be good for both of them. Leo was thankful for, and comfortable in, Grant's presence, but there was something to be said for his best friend being around. Especially now that Leo was deep in this investigation. It would be good to feel grounded in something that was truly part of his normal, usual life, again.

As they made their way to the station, Grant explained to Leo that Bobbi, who was moving between his case and Kara's, now, had been looking into the possibility that someone from Melinda May's past might be the one behind these attacks. The photo that Leo had found in the briefcase had not been put there by accident, and it had depicted both Phil Coulson and his longtime girlfriend. So far, Bobbi hadn't turned up much, except for a psychiatrist who had once been engaged to May. His name was Andrew Garner, but Bobbi's opinion was that he was far from the suspect they needed to look for. He was settled down and settled into his life, and seemed to harbour Melinda no ill will. Leo, like Grant, was happy to leave it that way.

While it did seem like this person had something out for Coulson, personally, Leo couldn't be sure that it had a connection to May. He couldn't explain it, and he didn't bother voicing it to Ward, but there was just something about that assumption that didn't sit right with him. It felt like they were trying to shove a puzzle piece in where it didn't belong. He might still prove wrong – maybe they were just holding the puzzle piece the wrong way, and Melinda was the connection they needed – but as they ascended the parkade stairs, Leo felt almost certain that looking at Melinda May's past was the wrong avenue to follow.

Once they walked into the bullpen, it was easy to spot Jemma. She had said that she would be waiting outside, in the waiting area, for Leo, but she was seated at Bobbi's desk, leaning forward with her arms folded on it, talking animatedly with the other woman. Leo took one look at her, and recognized the expression on her face at once.

There were reasons that he and Jemma, despite their very, very close bond, had never had any sort of true romantic or sexual interest in each other. Leo had once attempted to convince himself that he was in love with Jemma, sure that those feelings were the ones he was supposed to be experiencing. It hadn't been long after that that he'd realized that he was merely compensating for what society had taught him to expect of himself, and that he was much more content to imagine himself kissing the attractive male barista at his local Starbucks, than he was to imagine the same with his best friend.

It was probably partially some sort of survival instinct that had pushed them together in the first place. Leo recognized the look on Jemma's face, because he had seen it a few times before. Usually before Jemma triumphantly told him that she had gotten a girl's number.

“Is she...?”

Leo looked up at Grant, and then headed over towards Jemma and Bobbi with nothing more than a nod.

Yes, Jemma was most definitely hitting on Bobbi, if that was what Grant thought was happening. Not for nothing, though; Bobbi appeared to be flirting right back, which was pretty interesting. She was actually _batting her eyelashes_ , before she looked up and saw Leo approaching them, and her grin turned into something that was less charming, and more friendly.

Trust Jemma to immediately find and take a shine to the leggy blonde police woman who was more than willing to return her advances.

“Hey. Any luck on that lead?”

Grant shook his head as he joined the three of them at Bobbi's desk. “No, it was a dead end. For now. We've got feelers out, and I sent Raina a message asking her to circulate the info. Hopefully we get a biter.”

“Well, he's connected to a few high profile attacks. I hope someone bites and it goes somewhere.” Bobbi said, then looked at Leo, and pointed across her desk at Jemma. “I found her waiting for you out in the hall, and figured she could use some company while you two chased down B&E suspects. Your friend's a sweetheart, Leo. You didn't mention that.”

“Oh, that's all right.” Jemma chimed in. “He didn't mention that about _you_ either.”

Leo would have groaned, but he didn't think either of them would have reigned themselves in. “It never came up.” He said, in his own defense, and then, to Jemma. “Did you want to head out?”

It had gotten pretty late in the day, between their running around, interviews, stops, lunch, and lead tracking. It was coming up on 6:30 in the evening, a fact that seemed unreal to Leo. It gave him and Jemma some time to hang out, get dinner and watch a movie or two, before Leo would have to pass out.

“Yeah, I'm starving. You're good to order in tonight?” Jemma smiled while she got to her feet, pulling the strap of her bag back over her shoulder. “My treat.”

“Sounds good to me. Um... Do I...” Leo looked at Grant, who was standing by, observing, with his hands in his pockets. “I assume I probably should wait for Joey and Mack?”

“They're actually in the cafe right now.” Bobbi cut in. “They got here around 6. Grant told them to pick you up here again tonight.” She looked Grant's way, and it was evident that both of them were wondering the same thing.

“Sorry, but they do need to be there, tonight. Especially because we've started kicking up dust in regards to the man who broke into your apartment. It's to keep you, and as she'll be there, Miss Simmons, safe.” Grant informed them, and Leo was touched to hear a tone of sympathy in his voice. Grant didn't seem like the type who would care about invading the visiting time of others, and at their first meeting, Leo had been sure that the man didn't know enough what a friend was to care about things that might make time with one a little difficult. Finding that Grant was actually making Joey and Mack's presence sound like a necessary, if regrettable, precaution, was interesting.

“No, that's understandable.” Jemma said, speaking up so Leo didn't have to. “I wouldn't want to risk them taking the night off, and then...”

She didn't need to finish. They all knew where she was going with that. Leo doubted that the trick of hiding in the closet would work again, especially not for both of them.

It was decided, then, that Joey and Mack would take Jemma and Leo back to Jemma's place, which was a change of venue, but one that Leo welcomed, and the officers seemed interested to explore. Going to Jemma's also offered them a kind of privacy that Leo's place wouldn't. Jemma's apartment had a bedroom that was fully equipped with an actual door that closed, and would afford them a space where they could talk, freely, to each other, without having to worry about what they were saying getting back to anyone.

That was something Leo was thankful for, because tonight, more than ever, he needed to talk to Jemma about a few personal matters.

Bobbi and Grant walked with them down to the civilian lot, where Jemma had left her car. It was a little, lime green Mazda 2 that was a stark contrast to Grant's Charger, and even Mack's Hyundai Azera. The former was built to be light and sporty, while Grant's car had the sleek look of a sports car and the bulk of a muscle car, and Mack's was clearly chosen for the legroom it afforded the tall man.

Given that, it was unsurprising that Mack volunteered Joey to ride with the two of them back to Jemma's place, and he would take the Azera over. The idea of Mack cramming into the Mazda 2 had put a grin on Leo's face that he'd had a lot of trouble hiding.

“Hey, Leo?”

Grant's questioning tone stopped Leo as he was about to head over to Jemma's car. It successfully gave her and Bobbi more time to chat with Joey while Leo moved back towards the detective, inquisitive about why it was he was calling him back.

“You've been working really damn hard the last few days, and we're kind of at a standstill, now. Now it's just going to be trying to flush Hayward out, and seeing if we can track down this 'Edward' guy. He's covered his tracks pretty damn well.” Grant ran a hand through his hair, and Leo smiled, recognizing it, now, as a sign of Grant being tired. “If something comes up that's big, tomorrow, I'll give you a shout, but how about you take the day off from playing detective?”

That was an offer that Leo hadn't expected, and even less expected was his immediate urge to decline the offer. He didn't really want to be left behind while Grant continued on with the case, and he didn't want to risk being forgotten. He knew that was selfish, and unlikely, but it was the immediate reaction that his brain had. He managed to keep himself from voicing that, only asking, “You're sure?”

“Yeah.” Grant smiled, crossing his arms. “You're having a night in with your best friend, and it would feel like a dick move for me to tell you to get to bed on time so you can come along over here, bright and early. I already spoke with Joey and Mack, and they're fine with it. They'll sleep in shifts so that they're rested. If you want to share some of your pizza, or whatever, with them, tonight, I'm sure they'd appreciate it, though.”

This was Grant looking out for Leo, personally. This wasn't Grant trying to get rid of him, as Leo's insecurities had been wondering. Grant was simply being a nice guy, and giving Leo the day off so he would be able to spend time with Jemma, and recharge and, Leo suspected, feel like an average citizen again, instead of a police consultant.

It was a gift horse, and Leo knew better than to look those in the mouth.

Even if he wanted to question Grant, and refuse the offer, in order to see his temporary partner again, tomorrow.

“All right. That's really good of you.” Leo accepted, adjusting his bag strap across his chest. “Promise you'll let me know if anything comes up?”

Grant laughed quietly. “Yeah, I promise. Now, get going, before Bobbi takes your place in that car.” He frowned at the two women, and Joey, who seemed to be observing their conversation with high interest. “My God, they hit it off fast, huh?”

“Jemma's like that.” Leo explained with a grin as he walked away. “She's a serial flirt.”

 

 

 

Dinner at Jemma's with Joey and Mack proved to be a lot of fun. Leo, Jemma and Joey had agreed on the drive over that they were ordering in Chinese, and Mack, who admitted that he would be outvoted, even if he did find argument with what the three of them had chosen, agreed to it, once they were all up in Jemma's apartment. The food had arrived in multiple bags, hot and delicious, and for over an hour, the four of them had sat in Jemma's living room, helping themselves to dish after dish, and talking about everything from daytime TV to the fact that Jemma had been aggressively flirting with Bobbi Morse.

She hadn't denied it, and Leo had known that she wouldn't. Jemma was a strong and proud individual, and she wasn't ashamed to admit when she found a person, male or female, attractive. Talking – laughing – about it with Joey and Mack had the added bonus of Jemma learning that Bobbi hadn't been in a relationship for some time, but, in Joey's opinion, Jemma seemed the exact kind of person to make Bobbi think she was ready to try the dating thing again.

They had spent hours, between the talking, and then watching a movie that Mack had picked on Netflix, hanging out. They had less watched the movie, and more ripped it apart, but that had been an experience that Leo had enjoyed more than if they had all sat quietly and watched it.

By the time 11PM rolled around, they were all flagging a bit, and Leo was eager to get some alone time with Jemma before they passed out from the sheer amount of food they'd consumed that evening. Joey and Mack were only too understanding, and, with Jemma's blessing, they returned to the Netflix main page, searching for something to watch, while Leo and Jemma retreated to her bedroom, and closed the door.

“So. It sounds like I might _just_ have a shot with Bobbi.” Jemma said, tossing a smirk over her shoulder while she opened her dresser drawer to get out something to sleep in that night. She and Leo would be sharing the bed, an arrangement so old and normal to them both, now, that neither of them even thought to discuss otherwise. “And she is... Amazing. I'd like to get to know her.”

“I think she'd like to get to know you, too.” Leo joked, waiting patiently for Jemma to pick out her clothes. He had a few things stashed in the bottom drawer of her dresser for nights like this, and once she was done, he'd get them out and change into them. “Do you... Jemma, do you think it would...”

Jemma sensed his hesitation – and how could she not – and turned around to face him, a sleep shirt and pair of shorts in her hands. Her brows furrowed, and she looked at him as if to say ' _do I think it would what_?'

Telling Jemma what he was wondering, now, would mean vocalizing something that he'd been struggling with, most particularly since lunch. The realization had come the day before, but over the past 24 hours it had just gotten worse, until Leo couldn't deny it any longer. He knew himself well enough to know what it was that was dogging him.

“Do you think it would be weird if we both dated police officers?”

Jemma was still for a second, and Leo wondered if she was trying to figure out what the hell he could possibly mean, before she hissed, “ _Oh my god_ ” and reached for him, tugging him over to sit on her bed. Rather than wanting gossip, the expression on Jemma's face made it obvious that she was looking to understand and protect Leo.

That made sense. She didn't know what he did.

“Not Detective Ward.”

“Who else would it be?”

Jemma's eyes made an obvious line to her bedroom door, indicating both Mack and Joey on the other side of it.

“Jemma.” Leo said, keeping his voice down. “You can't tell me you didn't notice.”

“That they're probably also gay? Yes, I noticed.” She paused, and then, “Are they together?”

Leo didn't say anything, but his silence, and Jemma's intellect, filled in the blanks. “Oh. Well. All right. That's lovely. But, Leo... Please tell me you haven't fallen for him?”

Leo frowned, feeling defensive on Grant's behalf. “What if I have?”

Jemma seemed taken aback that he'd asked that, and for a few seconds seemed unsure how to word what it was she wanted to say. They rarely ran into these moments, together, as they were both articulate people. When Jemma hesitated to speak immediately, that was when Leo wondered and worried, and he knew the sentiment was mutual.

“Well... He can't be...? I mean, no, I don't really know him, I've only _really_ met him tonight, but he doesn't _seem_...”

Leo gave her a flat stare. “He doesn't seem gay?”

Jemma flapped a hand at him. “Has he actually given you any indication that he's ever been interested in men?”

“Actually,” Leo started, feeling triumphant that he could deliver this information, now. Some of him felt guilty; their conversation at the diner had been somewhat public, but there was a chance that Grant had intended for Leo to keep those things private. Still, there was little that was said between himself and Jemma that left the space between them. He could trust Jemma with this. “He told me today that he's dabbled, and he already figured I wasn't straight, and doesn't have an issue with it.”

Jemma was still frowning. “Without the first bit, I could have easily said that he's just an open-minded, decent straight man. With the first part though...” She sighed. “A lot of people _do_ experiment, though. Has he mentioned having a relationship with anyone?”

Leo didn't like the sinking sensation that question gave him. Grant had, in fact, openly mentioned his former relationship with Kara, and the borderline one he'd had with Daisy. They were both women, and there wasn't a single man that had come up in conversation that Leo knew or suspected Grant to have had a relationship with. Leo knew as well as anyone that kissing and sex didn't necessarily amount to a relationship. Simply because Grant had dabbled didn't mean he would be interested in much else than more dabbling with Leo.

And, Leo, knowing himself, and knowing how he felt, even now, doubted that he would be able to settle at simply that.

“Your silence is speaking for itself.”

Leo looked over at Jemma, whose smile was sympathetic.

“So, he's only mentioned women.” Leo admitted. “Which...”

“Doesn't bode well, given the way you tend to fall for people.” Jemma filled in. When Leo didn't respond, she reached across the gap between them, pulling him into a hug. “Whatever am I going to do with you? Falling for your detective partner...”

Leo gave himself into the hug. He knew, now, that Jemma's reservations hadn't been against Grant as a person. They had been because she suspected that Grant might not be quite as willing to enter into the same sort of thing Leo was idly entertaining. That suspicion had some merit, but Leo was kicking himself.

Because even as they changed into their clothes for the night, and continued idle conversation as they both slipped into sleep, Leo knew that he wasn't going to be able to give up on these feelings so easily as that.

 

 

 

It turned out that Leo had needed the day off from the police work more than he'd known. He had ended up sleeping late, and only woke up when Jemma finally came in and shook him awake. Her position at the pharmaceutical company was such that she was just about able to make her own hours, so long as she worked at least 40 a week, and she'd decided to go in later that day, so that she could spend some time with Leo. That meant that she'd needed to kick him out of bed around 11 in the morning, but he wasn't complaining. He was more than well rested, and he felt almost guilty. Not only was she waiting on him, but Joey and Mack were still waiting in the living room. Leo had yet to go a day where he wasn't working with Grant, so he wasn't sure what the protocol was for the daylight hours.

The two officers, however, were able to quickly inform him. They went home for the day, to get some rest and catch up on what they needed to do. Leo was to call them when the sun went down and they would meet up with him, no matter where he was. While there was a chance that Hayward or 'Edward' might attempt another shot at getting him, Grant, Joey and Mack were all fairly confident that it wouldn't happen during the day, and, considering Leo had plans to be out and about in populated public areas for most of the day, it seemed unlikely that he'd be jumped.

That being said, when he was going to be at home, he had been told not only to keep his door locked, but to maybe invest in a deadbolt, or at least putting something in front of the door to slow down anyone who might try to break in. Joey had strongly suggested that he not go in alone, and Mack had nodded sternly at his side. If needed, Leo would ask Audrey Nathan, his helpful neighbour, to come inside with him. The more people, the better.

He and Jemma spent much of the early afternoon getting groceries and supplies that Leo had been neglecting for the past few days, and before Jemma headed to work, she stopped by Leo's apartment with him, and helped him install the deadbolt they'd picked up at the hardware store. It wasn't much, but it was that much more security, and it put Leo's mind at ease. He had also picked up a baseball bat – it was ridiculous, he thought now, that he hadn't had one before – and the two of them had gone through his bachelor apartment, making sure it was empty of any intruders, before they put the bat by his bed and when about their business.

Once Jemma left for the afternoon, Leo took care of some of the neglect he'd visited on his apartment since his life had been turned upside down. He spent time organizing and cleaning, a little bit chagrined that he'd had people in his apartment while it was in something of a state. By the time he was done, it was much more orderly, and his dirtied clothing had even found their way into the oft ignored hamper by his clothing closet. The fridge was better stocked – and good thing, considering Leo's regular guests as of late – and the kitchen was cleaned once more. By the time he was done, it was getting late, so he made himself a hearty dinner of a grilled ham and cheese sandwich, and called Mack to let him know that he was at home and intended to stay there for the rest of the night.

When Joey and Mack arrived, Leo was deep into working on the story he'd been researching for some time now. Thankfully, it wasn't something that had a deadline that was anything approaching soon, because if it had been, Leo would have been in trouble. It had taken a back seat to the investigation he had been doing with Grant, and while it felt good to be putting his fingers to the keys again and putting his findings into engaging words, he couldn't find it in him to be too bothered that he'd let it fall by the wayside.

The three of them had a good night, perhaps foreshadowed by their arrival with the good news that Councilman Coulson had been released from hospital. Leo had enjoyed the time that they had spent with Jemma the night before, but Joey and Mack, perhaps more comfortable with him now, seemed much more open and willing to talk about themselves, their relationship, and Leo. Leo himself felt much more comfortable talking with the two of them, and for what ended up being hours they talked about their early lives, about figuring themselves out, and, particularly for the other two men, what it was like to be queer people of colour. Especially ones who served on the police force.

Leo knew that he had been given a leg up by the colour of his skin, even if he were gay. Listening to some of the things that Joey had endured, coming up in the force, and that Mack had experienced, in a childhood neighbourhood that was profoundly negative when it came to homosexuality, Leo heard things he hadn't before. He heard a perspective that was so often glossed over when it came to the stories that were shared by gay, bisexual and lesbian people in the media. The writer in him listened until he couldn't stop himself, and asked if, when this was all over, if they would be willing to let him interview them for a potential series of human interest stories on LGBT individuals in the police force, and unique challenges they faced, both in their professional and personal lives. He had an idea of a few magazines that regularly reached out to him who would be interested in such pieces, and was pleased when Joey and Mack agreed, and even said that they would be able to put Leo in contact with others on the force who fit the lifestyle his story would be about. They had no issues taking part, so long as Leo was careful to use discretion when it came to some of the details of their personal lives.

And Leo had no problem with that.

It felt like a lifetime since Leo had been in touch with the side of himself that was interested in telling stories and showing things to an audience, be it a scandal or a lifestyle that few often heard or spoke about. It wasn't that he was suffering and sad when he worked with Grant, but there was a human element to what he normally did that made him feel more grounded and in touch with himself. It wasn't the same passion as he had for engineering, and it wasn't the sleuth work that he would have been taking on as a private investigator, but it was still rewarding.

When he went to bed that night, it was with ideas already churning in his head on the best way to present the two officers who had come to be a very positive and friendly presence in his life, at a time when things could have been greatly negative for him.

The next morning, it was back to the station, and Leo found that he felt rested, refreshed, and as though he had a fresh outlook and set of eyes. The last day that he and Grant had spent working on the case had been wildly successful, all things considered. He had high hopes for today to be the same. While he waited for Grant – Joey and Mack had dropped him at the station before the detective had made it in, but he _was_ on the way – Leo got the chance to meet a visiting demolitions expert, who had been brought in to answer questions related to a case that, thankfully, had no ties to his and Grant's. The man's name was James Taylor James, a name that he told Leo, who knew he'd given him an odd look, had come from his mother's fondness for the musician James Taylor. He was fairly rough looking individual, and had a pronounced Australian accent, but he was friendly enough while they waited to be gathered by their respective detectives. James was picked up first by a detective Amador, and Leo dared to wander into the bullpen, making sure to look like he belonged there, while he made his way to Grant's desk.

Once he was sitting down, there, and looking over the man's rather impersonal workspace, Leo remembered that he'd had the idle thought to look up Grant's family when he had the chance. That chance had come yesterday, but he had completely forgotten. With nothing to do now but wait for Grant to arrive, Leo pulled out his phone and opened the browser, typing the name Christian Ward into the search bar.

The senator came up with no issues, and on his Wikipedia page, Leo found a link to their mother, Elaine Ward, former advisor to the senator. Following that brought him to an image of a stern looking woman with dark hair expertly styled and pulled back from her face. It left the viewer with a full view of her piercing gaze, something that made Leo inexplicably uneasy. This didn't seem like a very kind or warm woman, and Leo couldn't reconcile her as the person who had raised the detective that he'd been working with.

Though Leo would admit, if pressed, that Grant certainly took after her when he wore certain expressions. The annoyed looking on her face in a video clip wherein a reporter harassed the senator's party as he made his way inside the state building, was reminiscent of an expression Leo had seen Grant himself wear.

“You checking up on my story? Making sure I'm not lying about who I am?”

Leo jumped at the sound of Grant's voice, and flushed when the other man laughed, coming around his desk to sit down facing him. Leo had been so engrossed in the things that he was reading that he hadn't heard Grant's approach, and had given him the chance to sneak up on him. He wasn't bothered by it, however. Looking across the desk at Grant, who was grinning easy, Leo couldn't even imagine being bothered.

“I had to make sure, you know. You do seem pretty shady.”

Grant laughed again. “I know. It's just part of my charm. You had a good day off yesterday?”

Leo tucked his phone away. “Yeah, I did. Got some stuff done that I'd been neglecting, so I definitely needed it. How were things here while I was away?”

Grant shrugged. Unlocking his desk drawers and pulling out a few file folders. Some of them, Leo recognized. Interestingly, he recognized one from the first night that he and Grant had met. “Not bad. The sketch was finished. Bobbi actually took it out to Miss Hannigan's yesterday around noon, to get her approval on it. Apparently it's dead on, so we're going to start circulating that today, thanks to Raina.”

Leo was impressed. This was definitely a breakthrough in the case. The more eyes that were looking for Hayward and 'Edward', the better.

“Speaking of which, Bobbi's probably going to take Jemma up on her offer of dinner, sometime.”

Leo looked at Grant sharply at those words, as they were news to him. “Jemma offered dinner?”

“Oh yeah.” Grant said, and if Leo wasn't mistaken, he looked fairly amused. “Bobbi and I talked about _that_ a bit yesterday, too, so you missed some gossip. It's been a while since Bobbi's actually been interested in someone, so it's a nice thing to see.”

He was going through some of the folders, and seemed distracted, somewhat. Leo didn't speak again until Grant looked up, and pushed two pieces of paper towards him. The first was what Leo presumed to be the artist's sketch. The man in the drawing was definitely upper middle-aged, with dark hair that conformed to the 'messy professor look' that Hannigan had described. Leo knew there was little chance that it was absolutely accurate, given that he'd been wearing a hat, but he was willing to run with this.

The other page was an address, and an image of aerial surveillance. The surrounding terrain was one that Leo knew to be one the border of the city, in an area that was largely industrial leftover. Some of the factories were still in use, a few of them very successful, employing many of the city's citizens. There were many, though, that were up for lease, like Terrace Boulevard's office building had been, and up for purchase if a company wanted the land, or to renovate the factory into loft apartments.

“We got a tip last night.” Grant said. “Edward here was seen in this area, specifically the old Afterlife plant. There hasn't been any sign of anyone being there, since last night when we put a guy on the building, and technically I shouldn't do this, but,” Grant shuffled the papers, “You've been instrumental to this case, so, if you don't mind wearing some kevlar, I'd like you to come with me and a team to check it out.”

Leo was dumbfounded. They might have tracked down Edward, and Grant wasn't just telling him that they were going to investigate, he was inviting him along. With no room for insinuation, Grant, an actual employed homicide detective, was offering for Leo, a journalist on a consulting contract, the chance to wear kevlar and come along with him to check out the place they suspected their number one suspect to be hiding out.

When he had argued that he would be beneficial to the case, he hadn't expected this. Either way, he wasn't turning this chance down.

Grinning across the desk, Leo answered, “Let's go get suited up, shall we?”

 


	11. Chapter 11

The kevlar felt heavier in a way that Leo hadn't anticipated. He had been ready for it to feel like it was pulling him down, but he hadn't expected it to feel quite as much like a stiff hug as it did, with all the straps pulled tight. Grant had also seen to it that he was covered from head to toe in black. It wasn't necessary, he'd been told, but it might be beneficial. Grant had already been wearing primarily dark colours, and when he led Leo out to the squad car that they would be taking, along with the team in the van, his kevlar had been pulled on over his wine coloured henley. Combined with his looks, he resembled an action movie star.

Leo had done his best, on their trip to the plant, to keep his mind on the task at hand, rather than the thoughts he'd been sharing with Jemma, and refusing to let slip away, two nights before. For the most part, he was largely successful.

It was easy to put those thoughts aside, however, once they arrived. Grant had given him by the book instructions on the ride over. He was to stay with the detective at all times. He was not being given a firearm, but he was being given a tazer, and if he had to use it, he had best be careful not to hit Grant. Leo suspected that when Grant had said that, he was joking, but the other's face had been devoid of amusement, so he wasn't sure. They would be entering in the middle of the main pack, and once the men in full gear had cleared floors, they would be free to investigate.

Leo had answered that he understood, the feeling of anticipation mounting.

Now, standing outside the plant, he felt that anticipation mix with apprehension. There was a good chance that storming this place – even if storming was too strong a word – could end badly for some of the them. Leo knew what the weapons this man was using were capable of. As they were getting ready, he worried over the advice he wanted to give Grant, wondering if it would be too much, if it would give away more than Leo wanted to be known.

In the end, however, his desire to keep Grant – and the others – safe from the subsonic weapon won out, and Leo told Grant that they might be best to wear earplugs, if it was possible.

The issue was, Grant told him, that they couldn't risk not being able to hear properly, right now and, if the weapon was as disastrous as it seemed, he was sure a few foam cones wouldn't save them from its effects.

Leo bit his tongue, keeping himself from telling Grant he was right, and simply nodded, waiting with Grant while the first team took the plant, working through the lower level in teams of two.

After what seemed like forever, the all clear came over the comms, and Grant was leading Leo into the building, the heady mix of anticipation and apprehension making Leo's legs feel like jelly.

Once they were inside, however, he was mentally documenting everything he saw. The building had been kept in good condition since the company who'd owned it had gone under, and that was probably one of the reasons why it had been attractive to 'Edward' and his fellows. There was little maintenance and upkeep required to make it liveable and workable.

And people were living here. In a few of the rooms, they and the team found evidence that a commune of some sort had taken root. There were cots in rooms, with pillows and collapsible wardrobes. Boots and jackets and other articles of clothing littered the larger work areas, and they weren't the only things.

“This belonged to Sergeant Sitwell.” One of the men with Grant informed them, a good half hour into the search, while he handed Grant a jacket that was branded, like the sweatshirt Leo had inherited, with the police insignia.

Grant had let the man continue on, but had holstered his weapon, and looked at the jacket. In addition to the insignia, it was stitched with Sitwell's name. Grant's face while he examined it was grim. “He told me, few weeks ago, that he lost this. A few of the sergeants were having a photo taken, and they were all going to wear these jackets in it. He'd been joking with me that they were going to kick him out of the photo because he had no idea where he'd left his.” He folded the jacket, maybe more roughly than was necessary. “Not sure if he was lying to me then, or he'd actually forgotten, but here it is.”

Leo didn't say anything. There wasn't much that he could say. He couldn't begin to imagine the betrayal that Grant was feeling, finding out that someone who he'd trusted was working against him, and had withheld information like this so very easily.

Leo felt, in fact, a little sick thinking about it, and so did his best at going back to memorizing everything he was looking at. He wasn't about to let his usefulness wear out, simply because he was at a loss of what to do with what Grant was feeling about Sitwell.

Unfortunately, the revelations about Sitwell didn't end with the jacket.

On the upper level of the plant, they found a room that had apparently been turned into an office for him, specifically. There was a cheap Acer laptop set up on an even cheaper looking desk, and a few receipts for take-out that bore Sitwell's first and last name and, in some cases, his signature. It wasn't looking good. With every new piece of evidence they found, the case against Sitwell's loyalty became stronger and stronger.

And with every room they investigated, the case grew to include more and more potential suspects. This, Leo had decided quietly, could only be described as a group who were interested in domestic terrorism, however low level it appeared with their primary target being the city councilor. It was chilling to be in the belly of the beast, and as their time inside stretched on, Leo began to feel more uneasy, and more like he would like nothing else than to sit outside in the fresh air with his head between his knees, quieting his mind until his stomach stopped considering the merits of emptying itself.

The worst part of their discoveries, as they gathered pieces of evidence that incriminated some people by name, and others by potential DNA evidence that could be found on clothing left behind, was that two or three of the people whose names were present on things, were police officers. None had been as high ranking as Sitwell, but as they found the potential evidence, Leo watched the line of Grant's mouth become more and more grim.

This was an outcome that was strengthening their case in some ways, but it was obvious to Leo that it was having a negative effect as well. Not only on Grant, but on other members of the team. Finding that trust had been misplaced was not proving easy for any of them.

The final, and potentially most important pieces of evidence, were the ones that were on display, plainly in one of the main work rooms. Dozens of photos had been taped up, some straight, some haphazard like they had been slapped up in a moment of thought, adorned one of the walls, and they all depicted people who Leo recognized.

Phil Coulson.

Melinda May.

Daisy Johnson.

Antoine Triplett.

“He's targeting... No.” Leo looked over at Grant, who was examining the pictures, a hard look in his eye. “He wouldn't be targeting all of them... That doesn't seem... I mean...”

Leo didn't know what he meant. All he knew was that looking at the picture of Daisy and Antoine smiling and laughing while they were out for a meal at what looked to be a McDonald's, of all places, was making his blood run cold. If this guy was targeting Daisy, who had been given temporary leave in the wake of the attack on her father, then was she safe, even with her police training? Was Antoine safe, with his military background? They couldn't have known that this was coming. Maybe, with what had happened to Coulson, they would be more wary. Leo could only imagine that Melinda was.

Still, it wasn't encouraging. He was so caught up in the wave of mild terror he felt that he didn't register that Grant was speaking for quite a few seconds. When he did, he realized that he was telling one of the team members to call Lieutenant Morse and ask her to contact Sergeant Johnson. Good. Daisy would be informed, and she would be able to watch her back. Leo looked over the photos, mostly of those four, especially Coulson, and felt like he wouldn't feel settled for a long time. There were other people on the board, but Leo wasn't sure who they were. To him, they were nobodies, but to 'Edward' and the people he'd brought in to work for him, they fit somewhere. They completed the picture he was seeing.

It wasn't until Grant stepped forward that Leo saw it.

It was small, and easy to miss, but the second the detective's gloved fingers touched it, Leo couldn't look away.

It was a photo of himself and Jemma, taken only a week prior, the day before her party. To Leo's dismay, he didn't seem to be the focal point of the photo. The camera was zoomed in so that he was barely in profile. The image was primarily of the biochemist who had been his best friend for years.

“She... Grant, she doesn't, she doesn't – Jemma --”

Grant put a hand up, both stopping him, and signaling that he understood. Instead of calling for another officer this time, however, he pulled out his own phone, dialing a number and waiting. Leo felt like his chest had tightened, and mixed with the sensations that had been roiling in his stomach previously, it was focusing on fighting down the bile that so desperately wanted to rise in his throat.

This had gone too far, it had gotten too dangerous.

Everything had been far more sinister than he'd ever suspected it to be, how could he have been so stupid? He was supposed to be a genius.

His mental tirade was cut off by the sound of Grant's voice, confirming that Jemma Simmons was safe at her work. He thanked whoever he'd been speaking to, and pulled the phone away from his ear, dialing another.

“I made sure I had contacts for her, when I brought you on and realized how close you were.” Grant explained, clearly waiting for the ringing line to be picked up. “She's safe in that building, that company has _very_ good security. And I'm – Mack, hey. Listen, I'm sorry to do this, I know you're trying to get some sleep...”

Leo let out a breath of relief. Grant continued on, speaking to Mack, requesting that he and Joey take on watching over Jemma for the time being. Daisy and her family were already under police protection after what had happened to the councilman, and Leo was someone that Grant could look out for, himself. If Mack was willing to take over Jemma, that would be greatly appreciated.

Leo had texted him his sincere thanks before Grant had even gotten off the phone. Jemma was protected. Jemma never should have been a part of this but, for now, she was safe, and with the information that they had been able to get from this place, Leo was more determined than ever to help Grant get to the bottom of the case.

Whoever this 'Edward' guy was, and whatever it was that he wanted, if Leo had his way, in a very short amount of time, he was going to find himself behind bars, with that dream ripped from his hands.

Whatever it took, 'Edward' was going to be found, and he was going to be stopped.

 

 

 

With the rush of evidence that was coming forward, thanks to their raid on the Afterlife plant, Leo had expected that Grant would drop him with Jemma, Mack and Joey, and head back to the station. Surprisingly, however, what Grant offered wasn't a ride to Jemma's. It was an invitation to Grant's place, after strict instructions from a severe looking woman with dark hair and glasses that Grant get some rest, and she would call as soon as they had something. Leo hadn't expected it, and for a few seconds he had stood there, giving Grant what he suspected was a rather confused look. It had prompted the other man to rush and explain that he didn't want to overload Mack and Joey, and how it would be nice to have some company for a little while.

Grant wasn't saying it, but the revelations they were uncovering were having an effect on him. It was obvious to Leo, and, he suspected, Captain Hand, hence her orders that he get some rest. If nothing else, Leo would go along to make certain that such a thing happened. Grant had gone above and beyond to take care of him, he would do whatever he could to return the favour.

During the ride to Grant's place, Leo called over to Jemma, and they spoke for a while. Jemma was unsteady, scared, Leo knew, but she was handling it very well. Mack and Joey had grown on her, and they were having a good evening together. She considered herself safe under their watch. Leo was rather inclined to agree; he had been in her position for a few nights, now. There were few people Leo would more trust with Jemma's life than the two men that Grant had put in charge of her protection.

While they had been driving, and Leo had been on the phone, Grant had been silent. Leo hadn't thought much of it; Grant was being considerate, due to Leo's phone call. It wasn't until they had been in Grant's apartment for a few minutes that Leo realized that the detective still seemed a bit cagey.

He blamed his delayed notice on the fact that Grant's apartment was something he felt the need to mentally catalogue. He had expected something nice, and it didn't let him down. It didn't, however, live up to the 'bare minimum' that Leo had expected to encounter once Grant led him through the door.

The apartment was only a little bit bigger than Leo's own, and was dominated by the living area. It was in the center of two short hallways. One, Leo could see, led to the kitchen and dining area, and the other down to the bathroom and another door that Leo suspected was Grant's bedroom. There was a closet in each short hallway, and one by the door itself, and it was in that closet that Leo hung his jacket, before padding into the living area.

One of the walls was completely taken up by a black bookshelf. Every shelf was full, some to the point where books were piled on top of each other in front of the filed books. On closer inspection, he found that they featured everything from true crime, to fiction, to, in abundance, history books. That hadn't been something that Leo had expected, and he was sliding a finger along the spines, marveling at the titles, when he heard Grant move behind him, and realized how quiet the other was.

Leo felt almost guilty that he hadn't noticed sooner, and turned around, giving Grant a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I didn't know you were such a history buff. It's... Interesting.”

Grant's smile didn't quite reach his eyes, but it made a valiant effort. The detective had dropped onto one side of the large black couch that took up one wall of the living room. Across from it was a television, and, in the center of the room, a black polished wooden table. Grant had set down two coasters – of course – and on top of them, a bottle of beer, presumably one for both of them. Leo wouldn't blame Grant if he'd intended both to belong to himself.

“I've always had an interest in history. Ever since I was a kid. There's just so much to read about, and learn.”He shrugged. “I know some people find it dull, or boring, and they don't see the point, but I don't fall into the vast majority on that.”

Leo nodded. “You've got everything from ancient history to stuff about the Colombian drug wars in the 90s on those shelves. Wide taste.”

Another shrug. “History buff.”

It was gratifying to see the hint of smugness that came over Grant when he said that. Something about Leo noticing how wide his collection was had pleased the man, and gotten his mind, in whatever small portion it may be, off the bullshit at hand.

Joining Grant, albeit at the other end of the couch, Leo picked up one of the beers and took a swig. He wasn't sure where to take the conversation from there, and for a few minutes, they did nothing but sit in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable. Not exactly. Leo was able to let his eyes wander, and take in a little more of the living room, while Grant was brooding.

That seemed the wrong word, but there was little else to describe the expression on his face. Leo left him to it, and was about to get up and help himself to one of the books from the shelf – something on technological advancements of the second world war – when Grant finally spoke.

“I feel like I can't trust anyone.”

They were heavy words, and the weight of them pressed Leo back, against the back of the couch, leaving him feeling like he couldn't stand, even if he wanted to. All he could do was look over at Grant, and wait for him to continue.

If he was going to continue. He had what looked like a thousand mile stare on his face, and he might have been too lost in it to continue to share his thoughts with Leo. He pulled himself out of it, though, and met Leo's eyes, shifting in his seat.

“I've worked with a lot of those guys for years. These are men that, while maybe not _great_ , at least seemed _decent_. But they've taken up with someone who, for whatever fucking reason, is targeting a city councilor and his family. They can't seem to find any of them, either. That's the part that really gets me. At least one of them was at the station when we left. He must have tipped off the others. Found out where we were headed and told them they all needed to go underground.” He reached up, rubbing a hand over his face. “I feel like I can't trust anyone... Except for you.”

Leo smiled, a small, delicate thing.

“You haven't been cavorting around in the shadows, plotting to murder Coulson. You've just been _helping_ this investigation. And listening to me bitch, which I appreciate. I rarely have that.”

His last words were drowned out by Leo vehemently insisting that he was _not_ bitching. The words broke through the stiffness that had been settling on him more and more with Grant's words, and he straightened up, shaking his head.

“You're not bitching. This is heavy stuff... Really heavy stuff. I don't know how you're dealing with it...” _Because it's freaking me right the hell out._ “But your captain said you're supposed to be getting some rest. I know it'll be hard, but how about we order a pizza, have some more beer, and you can tell me all about your favourite...” Leo waved a hand at the bookshelf. “War... history, thing.”

That got a laugh out of Grant, one that made Leo feel much more settled and pleased about where the evening was going. He was keeping Grant out of a dark hole – hopefully – and with that act, also himself.

“All right. You want to order, or should I?”

By the time they finished ordering their pizza, it had been another twenty minutes, and they'd both finished their beers during the debate about what toppings were most necessary. Grant had retreated to the kitchen to get more, and Leo had called that he was going to go investigate Grant's bathroom, and see if he lived like a slob.

Unsurprisingly, he did not, though Leo was amused at the small army of hair products lined up on the bathroom counter.

On his way back to the living room, he glanced into Grant's bedroom, and was greeted with darkness. After blinking a few times, he was able to make out the shape of a large bed, blanketed in dark sheets and an equally dark duvet. The curtains over the window hung to the floor, and seemed like they were black or another dark colour. Leo had seen balconies from the outside of the building, and since there was no sign of it in the living room, Leo expected the balcony opened off the bedroom. That would be nice, in the mornings. Wake up and wander onto the balcony, watch the sunrise. Leo vaguely wondered about their sleeping arrangements, and if Grant would insist that Leo take the bed.

If he did, Leo would be able to wander onto that balcony in the morning.

But that would only be if he was able to extract himself from the pillows and blankets that were bound to smell like Grant.

Shaking his head, Leo sternly ordered himself to let thoughts like that go, for the moment, and rejoined Grant in the living room.

After that, things were much more animated. They talked for a long time, before the pizza arrived, about Grant's biggest historical passion – world war two, something Leo gleaned from the number of books on the subject that lined his shelves – and when the pizza arrived, Grant continued around bites of it. Leo was content to listen, and jump in where he could.

It didn't take long before they were on their fourth beers, the pizza long since consumed, and talking about other things.

Leo's experiences being a child with a Scottish accent in a school system that was decidedly American. Grant's laughter at Leo's story of the teacher who had repeatedly needed him to slow down when he spoke made Leo break into laughter of his own.

Grant's desire for a dog. His apartment allowed them, but the issue was that he just wouldn't have the time to care for and train it. Some days he considered joining the K-9 unit, just so he could have a dog.

Leo's frustrating back-burner hunt for an engineering job. There wasn't a demand for it, here, and someday he wanted to do it, full-time. At least, that was what he thought, and Grant had told him, bluntly, that the research he'd done on Leo had made him sure that Leo would be an asset to any company.

If that brought heat racing into Leo's cheeks, it was only because of how much they'd been drinking.

They went from topic to topic, life event to life event, until it was nearing midnight, and they'd come to a topic that Leo had hoped for, but not dared to dream of.

“I don't really know... I don't get how the labels work.”

Leo waved a hand, reaching for his beer – the fourth, he thought. “You don't need to put a label on yourself. You like what you like. I _know_ I'm gay because sex with men feels good and right and sex with women... It was awkward, to say the least.”

Grant was smirking over the rim of his beer bottle, and Leo sighed.

“Yeah, it took a while to get it up.”

“Maybe I'm gay too, then. Sometimes I think the system's just completely gone down. It works fine other times...”

Shrugging, Leo stretched, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Maybe you're pansexual or something.” He almost spat out the sip of beer he took at the look Grant gave him. “What?”

“The _fuck_ does pansexual mean?”

“It means like... you're attracted to everything, it just has to be a certain circumstance. Something like that.”

Grant was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice seemed subdued. “I guess.”

“I wouldn't worry about it, too much. You... You basically think you're straight, right?” He hated asking that, but Leo knew that he had to. He'd been the one who had opened the can of worms labeled 'sexuality' in the first place. It had been freeing to talk about how he'd learned himself, with Grant. In return, he'd learned that Grant had slept with both men and women, particularly in college and at the police academy. But, nothing for a while now. Leo had joked that maybe that was why Grant was so uptight, and he'd gotten a beer cap flicked at him for it. The whole evening had been a success, thus far, for their quickly deepening friendship, and Leo felt little guilty that he was responsible for Grant seeming lost in a struggle to define himself.

Asking if he was straight was, maybe, the best way to settle him again, even if it might crush Leo a little to do so.

Grant's answer surprised him.

“No, I don't think so. Maybe I'm bisexual, maybe I'm that... pansexual, was that what you called it?” Leo nodded. “Right. I don't think I'm straight, though. Can't exactly be _sure_ , I haven't gone anywhere with anyone for a while, like I said.”

“Well, I'm ready and willing, if you need to eliminate an option.”

Leo wasn't sure why that had come out of his mouth, or what part of his brain had authorized it. He wasn't even aware of what he was really saying until Grant looked over at him, watching him like a hawk.

“That - That's what friends do, right?” Leo threw in, but it was too little, too late. He'd said what he'd said. Maybe he could try and pass it off as a tipsy joke, if he could get his mouth to work.

Grant was putting his beer down. That wasn't a good sign. He was probably going to tell Leo that he was going to call Mack, have him come pick Leo up. That this was a bad idea, and he was sorry, but he needed to get some rest, for real. Let Leo down easy, reject him gently, and send him away.

“Not exactly.” Grant opened with, and Leo steeled himself for it. “I haven't had a friend offer a sexuality-affirming fuck... well, ever.”

“I know. That was way out of line. I guess I'm one of those friends that just goes way too... far over... over...”

Leo had expected Grant to let him down gently.

He had expected the detective to get him safe passage to a different safe house, and have that be the end of it.

He had not expected Grant to move across the couch, and take Leo's beer from him.

He hadn't expected to watch Grant's hand put that beer safely on the coaster, before Grant's other hand was gently turning his chin.

He hadn't expected Grant to kiss him, but that was precisely what was happening.

Leo not expecting Grant to kiss him almost backfired. He had been so taken off guard by it that he didn't react, and in a few seconds, he felt Grant starting to pull away. That was what woke him up, and had him reaching out to pull Grant in.

Grant may have meant it to be nothing more than a peck on the lips, but Leo pulling him in, and kissing him back, changed that. What had been a soft brush of lips became deeper, Leo sliding a hand around the back of Grant's neck and catching a thrill when Grant's hands landed on his hips. Grant wasn't pushing him away, he was pulling him in, and gently coaxing Leo into parting his lips, which he did with a sigh, leaning up to push into the kiss more.

Whatever worries Jemma had put in his head with her concerns that Grant wouldn't return Leo's feelings were being crushed more and more with every kiss they shared.

There was every chance that this was a fluke, or that Grant was taking Leo up on his offer to figure himself out with Leo's help, but it didn't feel like that.

If that was what it was, Leo didn't think Grant would be taking his time, circling Leo's waist with his arms, or running his hands up and down his back, and sides, resting them on his hips, and then his back, and then his thighs. Grant wouldn't be chasing after Leo's mouth, and if this was just a test to find out where on the scale he landed, Leo certainly hoped that Grant wouldn't seem so content to stay on the couch and kiss him until his head was spinning.

He nearly did. He probably would have, if Leo hadn't been the one to pull away, laying his hands on Grant's chest to hold him off when he made to follow. Not that it wasn't _very_ encouraging, but Leo needed to know where this was going. Grant seemed to get that, pulling himself together, meeting Leo's eyes and then looking away, before drifting back to his eyes again. His hands slid downwards, from Leo's hips to his knees, not an entirely unwelcome feeling, and Leo was glad that they stayed on his knees, gripping gently.

“Sorry.”

That took Leo by surprise.

“S-Sorry? Um, no. No.” Leo moved his hands up, daring to slide his fingers around Grant's neck, lacing them together at the back, where the sides of his index fingers could brush against the ends of Grant's carefully cut and styled hair. “You're not going to kiss me like _that_ , after I _invited it_ , and then apologize to me, Grant Ward. That's not how this works.”

That got a smile from Grant, one that was a different quality from the others that he'd given Leo tonight. There was a self-conscious quality to it that smile, something very bare, and honest, and open. It was a smile just for him, and maybe it was the alcohol, and the rush of how Grant had just been kissing him, but Leo wanted to kiss it, feel the curve of it under his lips, and feel it melt away while Grant got lost in it, all over again.

“How does this work, then?” Grant asked, his voice quiet, a tone just for Leo. “I don't want to take things too far...”

Leo's heart was hammering in his chest.

“I'll tell you what's too far.” He replied. “But I don't think... I gave you an invitation, Grant.”

This was risky.

They were working on a high profile murder case, together. Grant was a homicide detective – the _lead_ homicide detective – on a case in which he'd made the call to bring Leo in. They were supposed to be working together to solve the case, Leo was supposed to be a witness, a consultant, and nothing more. Yet, here they were, deep into their bottles, bellies full, hours into intimate, personal conversation, with an offer Leo had no right to dangle in front of Grant on the table. An offer that, regardless, Leo was hoping would be taken.

“Whatever you have in mind, it's not going to be too far.”

Grant's eyes searched Leo's face, looking for the lie, there, for uncertainty. Leo knew he would find none, and he could see it in Grant's eyes when he was confident that Leo was speaking honestly. That confidence sparked just before Grant closed his eyes and pushed into Leo's space, again, kissing him anew, making Leo gasp and twist his fingers in the front of Grant's shirt.

Closer. He wanted him closer.

He wanted him close enough to feel the drumbeat of his heart while his kiss pulled noises out of Leo that he'd normally tamp down, and keep hidden away.

For Grant, though, there was no holding back. Leo didn't want to.

“Not too far?”

Grant's question was breathless, murmured against Leo's lips before he was being kissed again, not even given time to answer. They were tangled on the couch, one of Leo's legs hooked over Grant's, their other knees bumping against each other. Leo would be in Grant's lap, if he wasn't trying to let him take this at his pace.

And Leo didn't have any issues with Grant's pace. The question he'd asked, Leo felt, wasn't about this. It was about what came after this, and as soon as Grant let him up for air, he was nodding. With both hands, he reached up to cup Grant's face, looking up into his eyes. The rich brown was dark in this light, and darker still, after all of this. That confidence and surety was still there, and that spurred Leo on.

“It's not too far, Grant. I promise.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Leo was sure they'd been the right ones. This was a big step to take, especially with the high stress they were both under, combined with the beer they'd drank to keep it under control. Leo, though, would insist that he felt as clear-headed as ever – technically a lie, but not by huge leaps, not with the pizza and the weakness of the beer – and he would let Grant take this at whatever pace he needed.

That wasn't to say that he wasn't pleased when Grant kissed him again, pushing past the affectionate cradle of his hands to do it. It wasn't long before Grant was pulling him up from the couch, and leading him down that short hallway, towards the bedroom Leo had only glimpsed in the dark. A few hours ago, he'd wondered about waking up in that bed, surrounded by Grant's scent. Now, he was being guided into it, Grant only pausing to flick on the light switch before he was pulling Leo by the hand over to the big, inviting bed.

Leo couldn't have imagined this any better. Grant's bedroom light turned out to be a lamp that gave the room a warm glow. It would be something much easier to wake up with than the normal bright, cold light that Leo was used to in his own apartment, and in this moment, it was the perfect lighting. He could see Grant, he could see the colour in his cheeks, and the slight uncertainty in the movements of his hands while he laid Leo back, and reached for his own shirt, but it wasn't clinical. It was close, and intimate, and exactly what Leo would have wanted, and what he couldn't imagine was coming this soon.

He wasn't going to be an observing participant in this, though. Sitting up, he murmured, “let me”, batting Grant's hands out of the way to hook his fingers in his belt loops, and tug him down on the bed. Grant came without protest, even smiling, and Leo grinned. He couldn't help but be pleased with himself, and while his fingers worked on pulling Grant's shirt loose of his jeans, he leaned in to kiss Grant again.

Not like their other kisses, though. Those had been wonderful, but there was something about kissing Grant slowly that was making the electrical current winding up and down Leo's spine burn hotter. It made his movements clumsy, and slow, but Grant didn't seem to mind. His own hands were preoccupied, one cupping Leo's jaw, and the other inching its way under his shirt, fingertips brushing bare skin and making Leo gasp.

Undressing Grant while they kissed, like that, felt right. It felt like the right way to kiss him while Leo watched him pull off his shirt, while Leo undid his belt, and jeans, and encouraged him to get up to kick them off. Kissing him like that, grinning into it after teasing Grant about taking his socks off, felt so damn good.

Especially because Grant was returning the favour. This time, when Grant laid Leo down again, and he settled between his legs, Leo closed his eyes and reveled in the sensation of their skin touching from chest to hip, the inside of his thighs pressed against the outside of Grant's. Someday, he wanted to take his time and really look at Grant, like this. It was the furthest thing from a shock that he had a beautiful body under those clothes, and while Leo would have felt self-conscious – journalism didn't led itself to regular workouts as well as police work – he couldn't. Not with the look Grant had given him, while he'd helped pull Leo's jeans off.

Everything about this moment was right. Right now, Leo could forget everything else. Forget, and kiss Grant, deep, and slow, a leg hooked around one of his, so that when he shifted...

Grant gasped against Leo's mouth, and Leo bit his own lip, smiling, eyes closed, before he shifted again.

The noise Grant made this time would have made Leo whimper, but it was the movement he made in return that had Leo's eyes opening, his hands gripping tight at Grant's shoulders.

Grant was watching him, and Leo was sure it wouldn't matter that he could feel heat in his cheeks again. That wasn't the same way Grant had watched him when they'd first met. This was almost wonder, definitely fascination, and Leo was drinking it in, seeing everything so clearly on Grant's face that he didn't need to speak.

Leo just nodded.

In the past, he'd been with partners who rushed things. They were in such a goddamn hurry to get to the main event that everything flew by in a blur, and by the time they really got down to business, Leo was only _barely_ ready. Not that he didn't like a bit of pain, but some of his partners had been far too focused on themselves.

That wasn't the case with Grant. Maybe it was how long it had been, or maybe it was something about them, specifically, but Grant took the time to ask Leo if he had a preference – no, he didn't, whatever made Grant comfortable, this time – and when he returned to the bed, completely naked, now, with the things they would need to make this good, and safe, he had the courtesy to ask how Leo wanted things done.

Leo had felt bold enough, lifting his hips to pull off his boxers, to tell Grant that what he wanted was him. The way Grant looked his body over, not like something to be assessed, or taken, didn't hurt Leo's confidence, either.

Where other partners had rushed things, Grant took his time. Leo was used to these things, and knew how to relax himself. It wasn't hard, when he was able to pull Grant down and kiss him, gentle, and light, while Grant's fingers opened him up. He didn't hesitate to show it when Grant moved in a way that felt good, and if he was a little selfish, and let Grant give him more than he needed, he didn't feel guilty. Grant didn't seem to mind. The looks he and Leo were sharing weren't guarded, or detached.

This was so good, already. Leo was almost nervous about how the next morning would go, but he pushed it out of his mind, kissing Grant instead, and tapping his shoulder, before reaching for the condom he'd retrieved from his wallet.

There, Leo took charge. It only seemed right, after he'd been happy to let Grant take his time making sure _he_ was ready. After the last few days, slowly falling hard for the detective, Leo couldn't be faulted if he took his time with his hands on Grant's hips, his thighs, his cock. Grant wasn't complaining, and Leo was more than willing to take all the time on this that they needed.

The bottle of lube, capped, hit Grant's bedroom floor with a _tup_ , tossed by Leo's hand, and the air in the room charged in a way it hadn't before. Tense, anticipatory, and when Leo laid back, his eyes on Grant's face, he felt the knot of expectation tighten in his belly.

As with everything else, Grant's movements were careful. He was out of practice, but it didn't mean he was going to fumble with Leo, and he wasn't going to take this at a run. With Leo's help, he got both of them comfortable, Leo's legs hitched around his waist, Grant's hands, one on his hip, one on himself, points of contact that were sending tingles up Leo's spine, while he held his breath, and Grant moved.

Maybe it had been a long time, but Leo doubted that was it. Grant settled inside him, and he felt _good_ , and full, and the weight of Grant over him was delicious, it made him feel safe in some strange way. Grant was watching him, while he adjusted, and it made it easy for Leo to reach up, and beckon him down to his mouth, kissing him, again, before he whispered, “please.”

If Grant needed any more encouragement than that, Leo didn't know what it would be, but, thankfully, he didn't have to find out. The word had barely left his mouth before Grant was moving, slow at first, Leo's fingers finding his shoulders, and gripping tight. It had been a while, maybe too long, but that didn't account for _this_. How good it felt, leaving Leo all but completely lost in it, his legs reflexively tightening against Grant's hips, pulling him in deeper.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a little voice told Leo that it was because of how he felt about Grant. This hadn't all been a bid to get him into bed, and if he wasn't careful, everything was going to blow up in his face. He could lose all of this as quickly as he was gaining it, all it took was one wrong misstep.

Leo had been listening and fearing the things that little voice promised far too much over the last few days. It was easier to ignore it, now, when he could bury his hands in Grant's hair, and look up at him, the two of them moving together, Grant's lips parted, his eyes on Leo, the warm light cast by the lamp making his eyes seem even darker than Leo knew they were.

The voice was silenced, but Leo wasn't going to risk letting it come back.

“Good?”

The play of the loose grin across Grant's mouth made something in Leo's chest tighten, and pull tight when he replied, “God, yes.” Grant shifted, changing their angle just slightly, and Leo forgot that he'd been hearing any warnings from the paranoid, logical recesses of his mind in a flash of pleasure that had him squeezing his eyes closed, tipping his head back against the pillow and groaning Grant's name.

“Oh, _please_ , don't stop.”

“Didn't plan to.” Grant replied, his voice low, and thick, and right by Leo's ear. His eyes flew open at the first touch of Grant's lips against his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin under his ear, and jaw, and it was all he could do to wrap his arms around Grant's neck, and push down against him. Grant was pressed close, Leo's cock trapped between them, the warm rub of Grant's lower stomach working in tandem with the way he was pushing inside Leo, making heat pool in his belly. It was becoming harder, with every movement they made together, for Leo to hold back, and avoid falling over that cliff, especially with the soft sounds Grant was making against his jaw.

“Come on...” Leo whispered, reaching a hand up to tangle in Grant's hair. He pulled him up by it, hoping it wasn't too much, but not especially caring, especially when he could pull Grant's face to his, and swallow one of those soft sighs in a sloppy kiss. Grant's hair was a mess, and Leo could stand to see more of it, but, for now, he kissed him, and pressed their foreheads together, and whispered. “Come on, Grant... It's so good, come on.”

He tightened his legs as much as he could, hooking his ankles and pulling Grant in while he pushed down, not bothering to bite back a whimper. Like this, Grant was hitting that spot inside him that made him shake until he broke apart, but he wanted...

“Grant...”

Grant's eyes were barely focused, his breath coming hard. Leo could feel the way his muscles were bunching in his back, and knew he would be able to see it in his arms if he'd been able to tear his eyes away from the other man's face. He was holding himself back, waiting for Leo, trying to be a patient lover, but that wasn't what Leo wanted.

“Let go.” Leo breathed, pulling himself up to kiss Grant, once, twice, quick, messy things. “Let go, Grant, please... Fuck, please.”

He could feel Grant shaking, now, under his hands. Even if he'd wanted to hold back, he wouldn't have been able for much longer. But, at Leo's request, his lips parted in a quiet gasp, his eyes squeezed shut, his eyebrows furrowed. Leo watched, barely holding on himself, while Grant tensed, his movements more desperate, now, no rhythm. Those seconds seemed to stretch on forever, before he broke apart, groaning, shuddering, his hips moving quick, riding out his orgasm inside Leo while Leo pulled him down, cradling his head against his chest, listening to the broken sounds he was making, and holding on, head tipped back, shivering while his body rode the high...

“Oh, _fuck_ , Grant!”

Leo had known he wouldn't last long, not after watching, _feeling_ , Grant come. He hadn't expected that he would even hold out as long as he did, but what he hadn't expected the most was how _good_ it was going to feel. He hadn't expected to feel so immediately oversensitive, curling his fingers in Grant's hair and against his shoulder, nails biting into skin, fingers pulling, making a bigger mess of Grant's sweaty hair. His legs locked, his head tipped back, and sound died in his throat, lost in the waves of his orgasm, making a mess between them that neither man was in any state of mind to give a damn about.

When he could move again, and could hear, over the rushing sound in his ears, Leo laughed. It was a quiet, weak sounding thing, but he laughed, and it felt _good_ to feel Grant doing the same, collapsed against him, one of his hands rubbing up and down the upper arm of the hand Leo had tangled in his hair.

“Oh... Fuck, uh...”

Grant raised his head, and Leo swore his heart skipped a beat at the smile at his face. That was pure bliss and contentment, and that was Leo's doing. “I'm going to need a nap... That was...”

Leo grinned, and with shaky hands, pulled Grant in for a slow, open kiss, relishing in the slight, shivery aftershocks he could feel in himself, and in Grant. “That was so good you're going to have to carry me to the bathroom to clean up.” He said quietly, looking up at Grant, searching his face.

It was only a few days before that Jemma had warned him off of this. Warned him that he would only end up hurt, because it was a slim chance that Grant would return his feelings or desires. Now, Leo was laying with Grant in his bed, both of them messy after sex, biting his lip while Grant pulled out of him, Grant's smile never leaving his face, his eyes never leaving Leo, clearly thinking the same things about what they'd done that Leo had.

That was the best thing he'd experienced in a long time.

It might be twisted up in bad events, but gaining Grant in his life was something Leo didn't regret, and he was going to fight tooth and nail to keep it.

 

 

 

Leo woke the next morning with the knowledge that he was in Grant's bed. It was hard for him to forget it, considering Grant was laying on his side, next to him, looking at something on his phone. The night before didn't take much time to come roaring back into Leo's mind, and while he lay beside Grant, the other man apparently unaware, yet, that he was awake, he couldn't help but smile at the memory, at the the stretch and pull of his muscles. He felt sore in a way he hadn't for a long time, but it felt good. It felt like the muscle fatigue after a hard workout, but the workout that had caused this had given Leo a much more immediate and enjoyable payoff than going to the gym ever had.

He and Grant had kissed, last night. Kissing had led to sex, and then sex had led to a quick, shared shower, fresh boxers thrown his way, and Grant pulling him against his chest while they'd drifted off to sleep. The hard fashion that Leo had fallen for Grant in had definitely not seemed to have been in vain, and Grant, for all that Jemma had warned Leo, seemed more than content to kiss, sleep with, and share a bed with Leo.

Despite how bad things were, right now, amid the murder and now, apparently, corruption, investigation, Leo couldn't help but feel like the two of them had found something good. He'd found something that filled in a part of himself he hadn't really noticed was truly missing.

Not that Leo was blazing ahead without thinking.

They had been a little off, the night before. Between the food, the beer, the melancholy, and the sharing of life stories, there was every chance that what had happened was a one time thing, and Grant would let Leo down easy. It was the weight of that concern that had Leo staying quiet, watching while Grant scrolled along the screen of his phone, transfixed by whatever it was he was looking out.

This moment was so good, and Leo didn't want to ruin it. He didn't want reality to come crashing down. The last thing he wanted was for Grant to tell him that last night was fun, but it wouldn't be happening again.

Laying there, waiting for that to happen, though, wasn't the way for Leo to keep himself sane, and he knew it. Despite the fear that last night would be declared a fluke, he did what he knew he had to do.

Reaching out, Leo stretched, extracting himself a little from the blankets – Grant's bed was ridiculously comfortable – and yawning a quiet, “Good morning.”

Grant immediately set his phone down on the sheets between them, and shifted so he was fully facing Leo, giving him all his attention. That was a reassuring sign. “Morning. You sleep okay?”

“I slept _so_ well.” Leo admitted, eying Grant's phone, before looking up him. He knew they'd left their phones in the living room the night before. That meant that Grant had gotten up, gotten his phone, and come back to bed to wait for Leo to wake up. Another encouraging sign. “You?”

Maybe Leo was imagining it, but Grant smile looked a little sheepish. “Good. Really good.” There was a moment's hesitation. “I'm going to go ahead and guess that's thanks to you.”

The fears that Leo hadn't been daring to court shrank back at that. If Grant was going to let him down easy, it wasn't going to be like this. He wouldn't open with that kind of line. That didn't make sense.

“I won't pretend that I don't want to take credit for that.” Leo said, grinning, settling against the pillows, again. “What time is it?”

“Little bit after seven.” Grant answered, settling himself again. Leo couldn't help but notice that settling brought Grant closer to him. “We should probably head in, soon. You... Maybe we should stop by your place so you can get new clothes? You show up wearing the same stuff as yesterday...”

“Everyone's going to know I slept with you and we had _amazing_ sex?”

Leo felt a thrill at the way his words made Grant's expression change, clearly trying hard not to smile too much about it. “Well...”

“They know I was crashing at your place, Grant. They'll assume that I just borrowed something to sleep it, or slept in my boxers on the couch or something. People don't actually immediately look at a pair of people and assume they had sex the night before because one of them is wearing the same clothes.”

“They're detectives and police officers.” Grant pointed out. “And I might have... Left a mark.” His eyes tracked to where he'd been kissing Leo's neck the night before, and Leo's fingers instinctively reached up. He couldn't feel anything, but if Grant was looking there, and saying something about it, there would be a mark.

Rather than annoy him, that only bolstered Leo's growing good mood. “You gave me a hickey? Grant Ward. You gave me a hickey, like we're a couple of teenagers.”

“Sorry!” Grant said, quickly. “I was caught up in the moment, and you sounded like you really liked it, so--”

“--You don't have to apologize.” Leo laughed, reaching out and putting his hand on Grant's bare chest. “I like it. Maybe I'm dumb, like that, but I like it. We will have to stop by my place, though, so I can get a turtleneck or something. You're lucky that it's cool enough weather for that. Otherwise we would be going to CVS to buy concealer, and I'll tell you right now? I don't have a _bloody_ clue how to use that stuff.”

That made Grant laugh, and surprise Leo by rolling over, and catching himself before he did something. Leo had been ready for it, and was let down that Grant stopped himself. They were doing so well.

“This... It isn't going to change things, right? We were becoming good friends.” Leo started, quiet. “I would like that to continue... And what happened last night. Grant, it's been a long time since I've felt such an easy connection to someone. I don't even know if I've ever felt _this_ kind of easy connection with someone.” He searched Grant's face, hoping that he didn't find resignation or shame there. “If you wanted to kiss me, please, kiss me. If you want to go out for coffee, we can go out for coffee. It's going to be hard for us to work together if I'm going to end up being a one night stand, especially because we don't know how much longer we _will_ have to work together.”

Grant had started shaking his head, but Leo had ignored him, hurrying to finish his piece before he'd let Grant cut in. The last thing he wanted, truly, was for Grant to tell him he _didn't_ want to kiss him again, and he would _have_ to be a one night stand. Leo would understand, but he would hate it, and it would make it so difficult to work with Grant for the rest of this case, knowing what they had done, and wouldn't do again.

“Can I...?”

Leo nodded, giving Grant the floor to speak.

“What you're talking about? The whole easy connection thing? I don't... I don't experience that. Not even a little bit. Very, very rarely. You... You know, you can be a pain in the ass, and your articles are more trouble than they're worth. You're a smartmouthed little punk sometimes, and when I first saw you, I was pretty sure that you were involved in whatever happened to Sitwell, until we had the evidence lined up. I walked into that room knowing you didn't have a hand in it, but not really wanting to spend too much time with the guy who writes pretty damning investigative articles for a living.”

This was almost, almost painful to hear, but Leo didn't interrupt Grant. All he could hope was that what Grant had opened with was a good sign.

“Then you came around, again, and I wanted you to be the asshole reporter, but you wanted to help. And for some reason, I agreed, and, I know. I know it's barely been a week, but Leo... You have a way of breaking down these walls I keep up to keep people out, and I've never had this fast of an easy connection with someone. I don't click this well, or this fast with anyone, doesn't matter if they're a man or a woman. Not fast enough to take them to bed on the first night we kiss, and not well enough for the first time to be that... That was intense, but it was so good.”

This was better. Leo was hanging on Grant's words, almost unbelieving of where they were going. This was rocketing along fast for both of them, but Grant didn't sound like he needed to bail out. He wasn't talking like this was too much, too fast, for him.

“I'm not about to give that up. We're going to have to work out, you know, how to work this out. Because we sort of rushed into a few things, and I'd like to take the time to take you out for meals and take you to the movies. Not that I don't want to sleep with you again, because that was...”

Leo waited a second, then offered, quietly. “More than just really good sex?”

Grant grinned. “Yeah. That'll sum it up. But, no, I'm not going to call you a one night stand, and I'd like to see where this goes, for us. We have to be professional until this case is over, but, if you stick around, after, I'd like to find out what comes next.”

Leo was grinning, feeling a tight, happy feeling in his chest that he didn't expect to go away for days. Grant wasn't pushing him away, in fact, he was inviting him to stay, even if they'd started out really fast. That was what Leo had hoped for, and more. “I think I can stick around.”

“Good.” Grant replied, still grinning, himself. “Oh, and about the kissing thing. I want to, but I'm pretty sure I've got morning breath, and you won't want--”

“-- Come here.” Leo interrupted, and pulled Grant down, kissing him soundly, moving in until they were pressed together under the sheets, Grant's phone lost somewhere on top of the sheets between them. For all his talk of wanting to wait until after his morning routine, Grant didn't hold back, and Leo didn't notice, or care, kissing him, pressing in against him, wondering in the back of his mind if Grant would be opposed to Leo's hands wandering under the sheets.

The moment was broken by Grant's phone ringing, the sound muffled from where it was buried between them. Leo knew better than to keep kissing Grant when that was ringing, and pulled away, catching his breath while Grant dug the phone out of the sheets and answered the call, frowning slightly as he did.

By the time he was off the phone, the frown seemed permanent, and Leo knew there was no chance to test out his wandering hands query. “We have to go in?”

“Yeah, that was Bobbi.” Grant said, throwing the sheets off, and sliding out of bed. “Something's come up with the case. She wouldn't tell me what, but we both have to get to the station, ASAP.” He looked over at Leo, and the apologetic look on his face made Leo scramble to get loose of the sheets, walking to Grant's edge of the bed on his knees to pull him into one more, quick kiss.

“Well, then we better get dressed and gone, don't you think?”

 


	12. Chapter 12

It was probably cliched, but Leo was on top of the world. It was that bounce in your step, whistling while you walk kind of feeling that made him want to high five everyone they passed, walking up to the bullpen. Of course, he wasn't. Part of finishing this whole case off, and getting to keep Grant around in full capacity, was maintaining a low profile. That meant low, not strutting around with a big grin on his face. With that in mind, Leo was doing his best to contain himself. Hands at his side, walking along beside Grant, letting his eyes wander and take in the hallways like he'd never noticed a particular painting or slight dent in the drywall before.

It was working well. No one was giving them any odd looks. Grant was playing his side of the low profile well, but Leo supposed that was to be expected. He didn't seem any different than normal, and as a homicide detective, of course he was capable of pulling his every day persona off. Even in light of what they'd decided less than an hour before.

Leo did his best not to openly, obviously, admire that.

When they got to the bullpen, there were a few people waiting around Grant's desk. Grant said that Bobbi hadn't mentioned the nature of what it was that had come up in the case, only that she'd insisted he get there as fast as possible. Looking at the people assembled, now, Leo had a feeling that whatever had happened, it was pretty big, or pretty concerning. In addition to Bobbi, Detective Palamas was also present, as well as a young man that Leo didn't recognize. He didn't look like he could be much out of college, long brown hair tucked behind his ears. That hair made it obvious he couldn't be an officer, either. He had to be some kind of attendant or tech.

“What's up?” Grant asked, as they approached. “Is Hand letting us merge investigations?”

Bobbi's gaze flicked to Leo for a second.

There was no mistaking that. Leo had been watching her, wondering why she looked so offput, and her eyes had gone from Grant, to himself, and back. Maybe it was just to include them both before she spoke, but Kara was watching Leo, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

Something felt off.

“The techs found something, early this morning.” Bobbi said, her tone hesitant, like she wasn't quite sure where she was going with this. Leo frowned.

“Found what?” Grant asked, looking from Bobbi to the person that Leo didn't know. “Sorry, you must be one of the techs? Detective Ward.”

Grant held out his hand, and the tech took it, moving on to Leo who had followed the detective's lead. Kara was still watching him, and he didn't like that. He hoped she hadn't seen the slight tremor in his hand when he'd reached out for the technician's.

“Seth Dormer.” He introduced himself. “Um... Did you want to tell them? Lieutenant Morse?”

“Probably best coming from you, Bob.” Kara said, quietly. “But we should probably move this into another room.”

Bobbi nodded, silently, and Kara herded their small group to the back of the bullpen, and into a small meeting room. She closed the door behind them, and then nodded, encouraging Bobbi to go on. Her eyes weren't on Leo anymore, which made it easier for him to breathe, but he still wasn't fond of the feeling of extreme tension in the room.

“The techs have been examining the weapons that were found at the scene of Sitwell's murder, and at the attack on councilman Coulson.”

Leo felt the pit of his stomach drop away.

This wasn't good.

“The team that went through the plant, yesterday, also uncovered a few more of those weapons, including what we believe to be a prototype.”

_Because it_ is _a prototype_.

“We were lucky enough that we were able to lift some fingerprints from it. They were running against the database for a few hours, but we finally got a match.”

Leo couldn't quite remember how to breathe. His chest felt tight, like someone was clamping it in a vice, and his throat wasn't letting air pass. At least, not easily. There was no mistaking who it was that Bobbi was looking at now. Even with the expression on her face – not angry, but questioning, wondering, _confused –_ it was plain to see that this wasn't a look to make sure Leo was listening.

_Not now. Everything was going so well..._

“Do you want to tell him, Mr. Fitz, or should we?”

That was Kara, and while Leo had expected anything she said to be harsh, and cold, this wasn't. It was patient, and more understanding than he'd expected.

Not that he was lingering long on that. The person who was commanding his attention the most, right now, was Grant.

And Leo wished he could look away.

It was dawning on Grant, even without Leo opening his mouth and telling him whose fingerprints they'd found as a match in the database. He'd been fingerprinted, the first day that they'd come here. It was mandatory for all consultants, even if he didn't have a prior record of any offenses. Grant was realizing that now, and watching that appear on his face was shattering Leo's composure.

It wasn't just confusion, but _hurt_. He was hurt by what he was hearing, and by the fact that Leo wasn't showing any bewilderment as to why Kara was calling on him, Leo was confirming what Grant didn't want to know.

There was no point in standing here much longer, trying to choke back the words.

“Mine.” Leo answered, finally pulling his eyes away from Grant. There was a hardness coming into his expression, now. Anger, or disappointment. Leo wasn't sure, and he didn't want to see. “They were my fingerprints.”

 

 

 

From the top of the world, to the lowest he'd been in a long time. It was a crashing trip downwards that Leo hadn't seen coming. He had, stupidly, forgotten that this could all blow up in his face, all too easily. He'd been happy, and well rested, and riding the wave of all of that, so much so that when he'd woken up that morning, unlike every morning since he'd stumbled upon Sitwell's broken body, he hadn't taken a minute or two to agonize over the weapon.

It was absolutely something that he'd recognized. That first night, sitting on the floor of the office space that Sitwell had died in, he'd known what it was. He'd looked at it, and thought, ' _I designed that_ ' only a few seconds before his stomach had emptied itself onto the floor. The night that he'd hidden away in his closet, and listened to the intruder talk about him having anything related to 'the project' lying around, he'd suspected what it was. He had known all along that there was a very simple way for this case to link back to him – not just because he'd found the body – but he hadn't spoken up, or owned up to it.

And he was paying for it now.

He'd been ushered back to that interrogation room where he and Grant had first met. Leo had almost thought of it fondly, last night. Now, sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair again, he certainly didn't. Especially not with the two women sitting across from him.

They were, however, preferable to Grant.

Leo didn't know where he was. He'd left the room in a hurry after Leo had admitted that the fingerprints that had been found on the prototype belonged to him. He couldn't blame the man. Not twelve hours before, they'd been together in Grant's bed, kissing, having sex, and falling asleep together. They'd made comments – almost promises – this morning, about making things work out, even when the case was over.

And now, Grant was finding out that the man he'd been working with, slept with, and, Leo didn't have reason to doubt, had _feelings_ for, was involved in this whole case. Leo was involved, deeply, and he hadn't seen fit to tell Grant any of it. Not on the first night, in this room, and not any moment since.

Grant had sat with Leo in his living room and said that he felt like Leo was the only one that he could trust right now.

And what had Leo done with that?

“I'm going to allow you the chance to explain, Mr. Fitz.” Kara said. The prototype was sitting on the table between them, exactly as Leo remembered it. Not quite finished, but perfect in function. It did precisely what he had been contracted to make it do. It was going to help save lives, his little invention, and he might actually be able to get a job in engineering, if the contract went through. He'd been so proud of it, back then, when he'd shipped it off. Now...

“There is some information that we have been able to retrieve from the site where this was recovered, and we'd like to see if your story matches what we're seeing. I don't want to say that we will be arresting you for having a connection to all of this, but...” Kara sighed, and Leo looked at her, pulling his eyes away from the prototype. Again, he'd expected a lot worse from her, but she was being more amiable than Grant had, that first night. “We need to understand what happened, Leo. You need to tell us how you're connected to all of this, and why you didn't come clean during your first interview.”

Leo looked from Kara to Bobbi, seeing expectation on both of their faces. Leo hadn't just betrayed Grant. He had come into this police station, demanding consultancy, and been involved on this case. He had, in the process, somewhat made friends with Bobbi, and Daisy, Mack, and Joey. He had presented himself as one thing, and hidden a huge aspect of why it was that he was there.

Grant deserved to hear this explanation, and Leo hoped that he was on the other side of the one way glass behind the two women.

Bobbi deserved it, too. Maybe not in the same way, but she still did.

Leo took a breath, thinking on how it was that he should start this.

“Okay. Understand, I have an engineering degree. I'm an underappreciated genius, to put it lightly, especially because I cannot get a job in the field in this city. That's not on me. There are people in those positions who are not planning on leaving them for some time. I have applied, again and again, and been told that I'm a top pick should someone leave this or that company. Engineering... It's what I've wanted to do since I was young. And I don't make a point of hiding that. The magazines and journals and papers that run my stories? My contacts, and editors all know this. They think it's ridiculous, because I have a talent for investigative journalism, but they know that doing something in the field of engineering is what I want to do with my life. I don't hide that.”

Bobbi and Kara were still listening, and nothing in their expressions gave away what they might be thinking about what he was saying. It was true, and Leo knew it, that he wasn't exactly being humble. Being humble, though, would be another lie. He needed to come clean, and if that meant painting himself as one of those self-assured engineers, then he would.

Anything for the sake of rectifying his half-truths.

“It didn't exactly surprise me when I was contacted by this company. They call themselves the Centipede Corporation, and they said that I had been mentioned to them by multiple firms that they had gone to, to find the best of the best for a military contract they had acquired. They were, understand, in the business of manufacturing weapons for the United States Military.” Leo paused for a second to let that sink in. “I'm not a bloody idiot. Like I said, I have a genius level IQ. I did my research. I looked into them, and I checked them out, and everything I found seemed legitimate. They told me that they had a military contract to create a new kind of subsonic weapon. It was supposed to be an effort to minimize human casualties.

“You understand what I'm saying, right? Minimize. Lessen the chance of people dying out there. They said that they were contracting a few engineers, and would bring on board the ones whose designs most suited the needs that they were looking for.”

Pausing again, Leo waited for one of them to speak. Neither did, which didn't reassure Leo, but wasn't making his inner turmoil over this entire situation any worse.

“They asked for a few specific things. One, it should be compact. Able to be fit in the palm of a hand. It needed to be able to withstand a drop from a low flying helicopter. It needed to be heat resistant, and while they wanted it to be a subsonic weapon, they didn't want it to be capable of killing. The aim was that the weapon needed to be able to emit a sonic sound that would incapacitate an enemy force for long enough that our troops, or police officers, or whoever ended up using it, could go in and subdue them without the chance of civilian or hostage casualties.

“And that seemed easy to me. I was already drawing up plans, a few days after they contacted me with the final number for what my contract would pay, regardless of whether they picked up the design or not. And it was exactly the kind of thing I wanted to do. I don't...” Leo took a breath, licking his lips and looking down. “I don't want to build weapons that are going to hurt people. I don't like engineering things like that. But something like this? Something that both made our troops more efficient _and_ ensured a minimal loss of life? I was behind that, 100 percent. I was on board, and designing, late into the night, for a few nights. I finally came up with this.”

Leo reached out for the prototype, and neither Bobbi or Kara stopped him. That made sense. His fingerprints were already all over it, inside and out. Bobbi had said that while they were sitting him down. It wasn't like his bare hands were going to tamper with anything, now. The prototype still felt harmless in his hands. Light, but tough. He'd made use of the Centipede Corporation's promise to provide him with any materials he needed, when he had submitted his design and they'd asked for a prototype. Only the best materials for this, the thing that was supposed to help him get into the work he most wanted to do. Even if he hadn't had access to quite the facilities he would have liked, it ended up damn near perfect. Rounded, like a smoothed out diamond in shape, with a small button on top to activate the sonic emitter manually after a set timer of 15 seconds, and an antennae, inside, curled around the inner frame, to set it off it remotely.

“Now, understand. The sonic emitter that I built for this is very powerful. In making sure that it could survive a drop from an excessive height, I had to make sure it was powerful. But, the way I calibrated it, I made sure that it could only reach a certain decibel, and it could only run for so long before it would shut down. I'm not in the business of killing people. Especially not with something like this. This would be...” Sitwell's face swam in Leo's memory. “This is a terrible way to die.”

Sitwell's blood, inadvertently, was on Leo's hands. That was the first time he had fully let himself understand it, and he didn't like the harsh wave of nausea that came with it.

_You didn't know_.

“Mr. Fitz?”

Leo looked up, meeting Bobbi's eyes.

“You want some water?”

That was kindness that Leo hadn't expected, in light of what they had discovered about him. He didn't deserve a kind word, right now, much less the offer of a drink, but Leo didn't nod, nor shake his head, and Bobbi pushed the capped water bottle at her elbow towards him. He didn't take it, but he nodded his thanks. Maybe when this was over. For now, he couldn't risk breaking the story, or he, himself, would break.

“I finished the prototype almost two months ago, and I followed the instructions in the email. I took it to a UPS, I had it shipped to the address they'd given me. It was in Fresno, by the way. That address. I'm pretty sure I... No, I know that I still have all the emails, and the shipping label. I have everything.”

Kara nodded. “I figured. We'll be getting a warrant for your computer.”

“You don't need to do that. I'll give it up willingly.”

Kara nodded again, but didn't speak any more, which Leo took as an indication that he should continue.

“I sent it off, and I told them that it would work exactly how they wanted. They could run their drills on it, and it would pass everything, ten times out of ten. I was very sure, very confident. I was very proud of this, and very proud that I would be doing something to help this country perhaps not spill so much blood, in order to make peace.

But, then weeks passed, and I didn't hear anything. I just sort of stopped expecting to. I had been told when it arrived, and I knew that they would need to test all of the prototypes before they chose a frontrunner. I wasn't expecting to hear back very soon, and I got back to real life. I hung out with my friends, I wrote my articles, I did my research.”

Dimly, Leo wondered if there had ever been a single other design submitted. Was he the only one who had been picked by this Centipede Corporation?

“And then, last weekend, I get this text, telling me to go and meet a source, and, of course, I'm dead set on this story. I had a story that needed breaking, and I needed more sources, and of course I was going to go. So, I felt the party I was at, and... I... This, this is all stuff you know already. Gra- Detective Ward.” Leo corrected. “He asked about this, the first time I was interviewed. I went there expecting a source, but instead I found Sergeant Sitwell, and sitting on that table was _this_.” Leo gripped the device in his hands. “Not this one exactly, but something like it. It was sitting there, in plain view, and it was like it was mocking me. I didn't know why it would be there, or who had gotten it, and how they had known it was me.”

His words were coming faster, now, and shakier. There was no way to hide that. Leo had designed a device that was meant to minimize casualties, and the first time he'd seen it in use, it had been at the scene of a murder, the weapon that had created a fatality that Leo had never intended it to create. There was no way for him to hide that he was ashamed, and angry, and confused, at everything that had happened because he had been contacted by a supposed engineering firm with a military contract.

“I didn't expect that. I never would have. I thought this thing was in Fresno, being tested, not here, not where it had been made, being duplicated into copies without the calibration of the sonic emitter. I didn't want it to be able to do this, I specifically made it so that it couldn't. But, there's something--”

“--There's a pin missing.” Kara spoke up, softly. “Seth found that when he was comparing this prototype to the one recovered at Terrace Boulevard. There's a pin missing, inside the sonic emitter, and that makes it a lot more dangerous. The one in councilman Coulson's office was only unsuccessful because the emitter inside shook itself apart. The craftsmanship was not up to par on it.”

Leo was absorbing what she was saying, but his brain refused to understand it, not entirely.

What Kara was saying was that, yes, his design had been remade, but it was remade in a way that went blatantly against things he remembered outlining in his accompanying documents for the prototype. The pins, all of them, were essential in making sure the device did what it was intended to do, which was safely incapacitate hostiles and minimize deaths. Leo had been clear that removal of any of the pins would allow the sonic emitter to go to frequencies that would _not_ have that effect on human beings. There was every chance that the frequency it would be able to reach would cause hemorrhaging, and potentially self-destructive behaviour to make the pain and ringing stop.

That had been exactly what he'd thought had happened to Sitwell.

And Kara was confirming that.

“I didn't have a part in this. Everything after I sent the plans and prototype away... I haven't been involved. I know that you don't have any reason to believe me.” Leo folded his hands, fingers knitted together, to keep them from shaking. “I should have come clean about this a long time ago. I should have come clean the first night.”

“Yes, you should have.”

That was Bobbi, and Leo avoided her eyes. “It was stupid, but I thought... I didn't think I would stand a chance. Someone killed a cop, and I was the one who'd designed the weapon. I thought I would be the one that everything got pinned on, and I was being framed. I wanted the person who was really behind this caught, and I wanted to make sure it was done with as much help as possible. I... I knew what had done it, I just needed to try and help get to the bottom of it, and find out who the Centipede Corporation really was, because even if I didn't reproduce this prototype, and I didn't take the pins out, Sitwell's blood, and Coulson's pain? It's still on my hands. Even just a little bit. I wanted to try and make what I had done, without knowing, right. You get that? Do you understand?”

Bobbi and Kara were silent for a moment, and Leo tried to hold himself together. There was no easy way to explain why he hadn't told the whole truth. He'd thought that he was protecting himself, and others, by doing it this way. It was cowardly, in its own way, but he'd had the best intentions. He wanted the Centipede Corporation found out, and taken down, and he wanted to help, because he had been the one that had allowed them to have a weapon powerful and dangerous enough to do what had been done here.

It didn't change that he hadn't come clean, before he'd been forced to.

“The good news for you is that your story corroborates what we've been able to piece together with evidence from the scene.” Kara said, finally, gathering the file in front of her together. “You were a victim in this, too, Mr. Fitz. You were conned, and while we will be looking into the Centipede Corporation's legitimacy in the public eye, I don't have reason to doubt that you're lying about believing them to be on the level. Especially if they cited individuals and companies whom you'd given your resume and application to.”

Bobbi took the file from Kara's hand, and with a nod to Leo, she stood, and left the room, already pulling her cell phone out.

“That being said, I think you understand why, effective immediately, we will be pulling your access to the station, and terminating your consultant status with the force.”

Leo had expected as much, and nodded.

“You will no longer be privy to information related to this, or any other case, and we will be taking your laptop for investigation. Your apartment, as well, is going to have a warrant obtained for it. I would suggest that you room with a friend for the time being.”

Leo nodded again.

“Officers Mackenzie and Gutierrez will be reassigned, as we need all able hands on deck for this investigation, going forward.”

Leo almost protested that, but there was no point. He didn't have the right, in his mind, to argue that he needed those two.

“We did commit to protecting yourself, and Miss Simmons, who also seems to be a target in these attacks, however. You can expect a security guard from a local firm – May Private Security - to be present outside her residence from 8PM to 8AM until the investigation concludes. We expected that she was the friend you would choose to stay with, but if she isn't, we just need to know where you'll be staying so that we can provide a second guard.”

Jemma would be safe, despite the fact that Leo had done everything he could to damn himself. That was important, and Leo was grateful that they were making sure that these things were being taken care of, even if he was no longer of use to them.

“I understand.”

It was Kara's turn to nod, and then she got to her feet, gesturing that Leo could do the same. “You can take the water bottle.” She said, walking towards the door. “Bobbi brought it for you.”

That was a painful reminder. Bobbi had seen him as a friend, and still thought of him as someone deserving of a bottle of water preemptively being brought into an interrogation. Despite what he had done, Bobbi hadn't written him off, not entirely. Leo couldn't know what Joey or Mack or Daisy would do, and part of him wanted to run and hide so that he never found out.

Bobbi was approaching down the hallway, and she and Kara exchanged a look, one that Leo interpreted as a hand-off of the witness. That's all he was, now. A witness, and a part of this plot. If Leo had come forward sooner with this information, he wasn't sure that they would have involved him, but he wouldn't be demoted and standing in front of someone he'd been becoming friends with, waiting for her to walk him out of the station.

“There's a cab waiting to take you to Jemma's.” Bobbi said, quietly, handing him his jacket, phone, wallet and keys, all things that had been taken from him before he'd been put in the interrogation room. “I would suggest you call her. I... I sent her a message saying we were having you sent there, and she asked what happened. She's at work right now. I guess you would know that. But, she's concerned.”

Leo murmured his thanks, shrugging into his jacket. “I'll call her, Bobbi. Thank you, for... I know I don't deserve--”

“-- You should have spoken up sooner.” Bobbi cut him across. “Yes. You're a victim in this, too, Leo, but I wish you'd spoken up before now.”

Pulling the zipper up on his jacket, Leo kept his gaze on the floor, blinking hard. “You and me both.”

Leo had done the walk to the principal's office before. An exceedingly brilliant child was sometimes a handful to keep entertained, and his teachers had sometimes fallen victim to his bored antics. He'd been sent to the office a few times for 'acting out', and that had seemed like hell. He was a smart kid, and he hated being seen in the hallways, being marched to the office, like he'd done something wrong.

That, however, he would take over this, any day.

The walk down that hallway, and into the bullpen was relatively short. It was the bullpen that was the problem.

There were people in here that Leo had met, seen in passing, or been very briefly introduced to, as he and Grant had moved along, following up on leads. Video techs, forensic investigators, sergeants, officers... These were all people who Leo had seen here many times, and now some of them were looking at him with blank or hard expressions, as Bobbi escorted him out of the station.

There was only one person there, though, that Leo couldn't tear his eyes from. It just hurt that those eyes weren't looking right back.

Grant was sitting at his desk, a stack of files – ones Leo recognized from these last few days – piled on both sides of him. He was leafing through each of them, taking care to seem like he was engrossed in the refresher he was downloading, and hadn't noticed that Leo was being walked out at all. He wouldn't look up, even when Leo passed by his desk, and that made the knife in his chest twist, sharp and quick.

“Bobbi, I – I have – Bobbi, please just--”

He couldn't find the words, and Bobbi didn't seem like she was going to stop him. Leo turned and walked the few paces back to Grant's desk, dropping into the chair in front of it, his eyes never leaving Grant's face. The muscles in his jaw were working hard. He knew that Leo was there, but he wasn't looking up.

And the bullpen seemed unnaturally quiet.

“I'm sorry.” Leo whispered, daring to rest his hands on the edge of the desk. “I'm sorry. I need... Grant, I don't know how to say how sorry I am, but I am. I didn't want to hurt you, I just wanted – I just – I wanted to help. I had to help, I didn't want--”

He was blinking hard again. The stress of everything, the crash from his high, the fact that he indirectly had blood on his hands; it was all crashing down now, and it was making it harder and harder to keep an emotional reaction at bay.

“Please. Look at me.”

Leo hadn't expected Grant to give in, so when he did, he almost gasped. Grant looked up, and met his eyes, but it wasn't the open expression Leo was hoping for. The file in Grant's hand slapped shut, and he shook his head.

“You're sorry?”

“Yes. God, _yes_ , I'm so--”

“--You had every goddamn opportunity to tell me what you knew about this.”

Leo swallowed. “I – I know that, but, if I can explain--”

“--You could have told me that first night, Leo, and we would have really been able to do something. We would have been able to go after this guy, or these guys, or whatever, a hell of a lot faster. And you didn't. You lied to me.”

Grant was raising his voice. Not excessively, but enough that Leo knew he wouldn't be heard over the other man's words.

He had hurt Grant. Betrayed his trust and told half-truths and it had hindered the investigation. That much, Leo knew.

“I get that you're sorry, but sorry doesn't help us get back the man hours we've lost, and it doesn't erase the time that Daisy spent sitting at her father's side in the hospital, hoping to God he was going to wake up.”

“I know that--”

“--You know that?”

“Grant.” Bobbi said, quietly. His eyes shot to her for a second, and Leo could see the change that came over him. It was like the fight went out of him in an instant, and when he looked away from Bobbi, it was to look back at the files in front of him.

“Thanks for saying sorry. It's too late, but thanks. Your assistance was appreciated on the case, even if it would have been unnecessary if you'd just owned up last week.” He looked up again, but only at Bobbi. “You can take the witness to his cab, Lieutenant Morse.”

There was no battling back the hot tears that threatened in Leo's eyes. “Grant...”

“Goodbye, Mr. Fitz. Have a good evening.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

He had been too harsh with Leo.

That much, Grant knew. He had been far too cold, and had gone above and beyond what he needed to do, the way he needed to act, in light of what he'd discovered about the man he'd brought on as a consultant. Bobbi hadn't minced her words about that, either, when she came back from escorting Leo out of the station. It hadn't been necessary for her to tell him he'd been too harsh, but Grant understood why she had.

Leo was one of the most instantly attractive people Grant had ever met. Not just in the sense that, very obviously, he had come to be to Grant. He was smart, and funny, and kind, and it was easy to see why so many people at the station had become fond of him in such a short time. It was hard for them, on top of what they were finding out about various colleagues, to find out that their consultant that they liked so much wasn't being entirely truthful with them.

That, for Grant, was what had been so difficult. Compounded with the additional feelings that he'd only come to terms with the night before, Grant wasn't handling it well. It was the best explanation he had for the way he'd acted, but he couldn't tell Bobbi that. Right now, especially now, he couldn't tell anyone that. It made him look incompetent as an investigator, if he couldn't manage not to take his consultant to bed. Not only that, but it would absolutely cause people to start questioning how much of Leo's background he _really_ hadn't known.

Grant knew that, and for that reason, he was doing his best not to let that part of everything effect how he was feeling.

It was fighting a losing battle, though.

He had come to like Leo, and be attracted to Leo, very quickly. To the point where he had been able to break unspoken rules that he had for himself. And he had felt damn good about it. It had felt right, and good, and in the morning, he hadn't regretted it. Not even slightly.

If Grant was telling the truth, he still didn't regret it, now, and that was worrying. Leo hadn't lied to him, no, but he hadn't told the whole truth, and the fact that he hadn't had taken a bad effect on the case. They had been following avenues that moved much slower than ones that Leo's confession would have given them access to, sooner. Grant, Bobbi, Kara and others were now scrambling to get down those newly opened avenues as quickly as possible, but it didn't change the fact that they could have arrived at a conclusion much sooner. Grant knew that, and still he didn't regret that he and Leo had gone as far as they had.

What Grant did regret was that he hadn't pushed Leo further, at the get-go, and gotten that confession from him.

Then again, they never would have been able to go forward together, working on the case, the way they had, and that would mean that he and Leo never would have taken the step they did. Grant would be elbow deep in the resolution stage of this case, and Leo would be...

Grant didn't know what Leo would have been doing, but it was for sure that the two of them would have been enjoying very, very limited contact, and no time to grow to enjoy each other's company.

It was a mixed up, messed up situation, and Grant didn't need to be lingering on it, not right now.

There would be plenty of time for that, later.

Right now, he was busy pacing the floor behind Daisy's chair while she worked with Leo's laptop, probing into its memory, and the paths that the emails that he had received came from. It was understandable that Grant couldn't keep his mind off of Leo. The two of them were in Leo's apartment right now, with a few other officers, who were combing the apartment looking for anything that could be related to the project Leo had worked on, or the Centipede Corporation. Daisy, back on the job now that her father was home and guarded, had been the first one to volunteer for this job.

It was known to a few of them that Daisy had a colourful past. It wasn't something that would show up on her official record. She'd always been too good to get caught. Still, Daisy was probably the best cybercrimes person that they had on the force, thanks to her history, when she had been a teenager and young adult, before she'd thrown herself into the police academy.

Grant had suspected that Daisy had volunteered for this because of the fact that the person behind the Centipede Corporation was seemingly targeting her father. It turned out that he only had it half right.

“Yeah, he was involved.” Daisy said, tapping away at the keyboard on Leo's laptop. Grant had no idea what it was that she was doing, except that it was taking a bit, because they'd done a good job of trying to cover their tracks. He also didn't know how she was able to do what she was doing while keeping up a rather one-sided conversation about Leo. That was another factor in why he couldn't get his mind off the journalist; Daisy wouldn't let him. “Like, I get that. I know he was, he admitted to it. But, you know what, I listened to the confession he gave Bobbi and Kara. And I know that you were in the observation room.”

Grant said nothing.

“You heard it, too. He never tried to say that he wasn't connected, in some way, to this. He said, yeah, he didn't do... What happened to Sitwell. Or my dad. And that's fair, because he didn't. But, c'mon...” She glanced over her shoulder, and Grant raised his eyebrows. “Honestly, you're being a prick about this.”

“Daisy.” Grant started, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't want to worry about this right now. “Can we please focus on the laptop? There's got to be something on there that'll point us in the right direction.”

“I'm following the path to wherever it is this so-called corporate email came from. It's going to take a second.” Daisy fired back. “I'm not kidding. Grant, he's a victim in this, too. No, he wasn't attacked, and he's still kicking, but he was specifically chosen to design the weapon that would cause a very slow, and painful death. I read it right here in the email, too. They ask Leo to include things like what errors could be made in manufacturing to make the device ineffective, and what errors could be made to make it _lethal_. They literally asked him to write up and essay and they snuck in directions for him to tell them exactly how to turn this thing from a non-lethal device into a fully lethal weapon, all while wording it like they were trying to make sure such a thing _wouldn't_ happen in manufacturing. I get it, too. They definitely play on the fact that our military has a bad rep for killing way more people than is necessary in counter-terrorism raids.

“I'm just saying.” Daisy turned again, meeting Grant's eyes where he was standing. For the moment, he'd stopped pacing the floor, and was standing with his arms crossed, trying very hard not to feel the weight of the cold treatment he'd given Leo a few hours before. “I know you're pissed. You have a right to be. Honestly, I'm kind of pissed myself. But I think that you and I both know that you don't have many friends to begin with. What? You don't.” She grinned at the expression of annoyance on Grant's face. “I wouldn't burn that bridge until you can put yourself in his shoes and still say that you would have confessed, even if there was a chance that the murder would be pinned on you. A really, _really_ serious murder.”

Grant hated the fact that Daisy was right. What she was saying was exactly the thought process he had been trying to ignore for at least the last three hours, since his anger had worn away. If he put himself in Leo's shoes, there were a lot of factors that made confessing, then and there, difficult. And then, once things had moved forward and there was another suspect, it became easy to see how Leo would choose to keep things to himself. Better to not drop new and damning information when the investigation was proceeding well enough without it. Leo wasn't a cop. He wasn't a detective. He couldn't see the side of it that Grant could.

“We aren't blaming it for him _now_ , though, so why would have have _then_?”

Daisy didn't even turn around at his words. “You're arguing for the sake of arguing. It's not a good look on you.” She was scrawling something on her notepad, and then tapping keys on the keyboard. “You need to contact Leo. Maybe in a little while, let the smoke blow away. But, like I said. You? Not a lot of friends. Can't afford to lose one that I can _tell_ you were clicking with.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No problem.” Daisy said. The screen in front of her looked a little more familiar, but only because she'd rolled, in Leo's desk chair, from his laptop to her own police-issue one. “Now, me, on the other hand? Not only do I have more friends than you, but I have a piece of information in this case that I know you're dying to have.”

Grant leaned forward, squinting at her screen. “Tell me the good word, Daisy.”

Turning as best she could with him leaning so close, the sergeant grinned. “I've got the address the Centipede Corporation's been operating out of.”

Grant clapped his hands together, and grabbed his jacket off of where he'd tossed it on the couch arm. “Good. Let's get that back to the station, get a team together, and head out. I want to hit these guys hard and fast, before they can even begin to wonder if we've figured out that we can get to them through Leo.”

 

 

 

“The building is leased to an Edison Po. I'm not entirely clear on who he is, or if he even exists, but I wouldn't be too hung up about it. That's for the investigators at the station to work out. The important thing is that it's the same name that's on the lease for the lot Afterlife sits on. This is just another building, like Terrace Boulevard. Supposedly it's for bureaucratic storage. I don't know what we're going to find there, but I'm hoping that it's Edward, or someone who we know to be working with him.” It had been a long time since Grant had addressed a strike team like this, before. There were nearly a dozen of them, himself, Bobbi, Daisy, and Kara included. They would be taking the storage building from the rear, and systematically clearing it, hoping to find either the man who Leo had seen leaving the scene of the crime last week, or Brian Hayward, who, they hoped, would bear fruit under interrogation.

The plan had come together in little time once they had gotten back to the station and presented their information to Captain Hand. It was the best lead either branch of the investigation had brought forward so far, and she was happy to allot men, warrants, and supplies if it meant catching a copkiller, finally.

That was what had led them to the here and now, with Grant standing as best he could inside the unmarked truck they had parked a few hundred feet away from the building. He would have been happy to let Kara explain what was to happen, but she, possibly understanding that, right now, he needed all the distraction he could get, had handed the reins over to him.

And it wasn't just the need for distraction. Grant had been handed this case within its very first hour. It was only fitting, now that they were at a point where they might be bringing the man responsible for Sitwell's murder in, that Grant be leading the charge.

The sun had set, and they were taking the building under cover of dark, which was both a blessing and a curse. The windows were lit up, around the edges of shoddy covering work, as the team approached, and Grant felt his adrenaline spike. Someone was home, and they would be taking that someone into custody, alive if at all possible. They needed answers, and that person would be the only one who could give them.

After what seemed like far too long of a time, they reached the building, and after a quick exchange of nods and acknowledgments, the lead pair broke the door off its hinges, and they were inside.

It was obvious from the first second that Grant stepped inside the building that they hadn't been expected, and someone was most definitely home. There was at least one face he recognized in the group that they found in the main room of the bottom floor, but he didn't wait to take them down himself. There were plenty of men to do that, and there was much more of the building that needed to be checked. Quick, he and Kara broke off from the group and headed for the stairwell at the front of the building, Kara pulling the door open and Grant stepping inside, gun up, to check that it was clear. It wasn't.

Brian Hayward had been descending the stairs, clearly thinking himself smart, as the intruders had come in through the rear of the building. He hadn't expected for anyone to come in this fast, that much was clear on his face, only a few feet from Grant's. It didn't take long for the shock to wear off, though, and he was reaching for his gun only a second after he and Grant had locked eyes. Grant moved faster, and with a slight change of angle and a squeeze of the trigger, Brian Hayward was crumpling on the stairs, gripping his leg, a ragged circle punched through the worn leather of his boots, just above the toes.

“I've got him, you go.” Grant told Kara, not taking his eyes off of Hayward after they'd relieved him of his weapon.

“You're sure?”

“He's not going far.” Grant assured her, pulling Hayward to his feet and pushing him against the wall so he could cuff his hands. “Take Amador. She's a damn good shot.”

Kara and Amador moved past him in the stairwell, heading up to check for anyone else, and Grant pulled Hayward away from the wall, turning him so they were facing each other.

“Been looking for you for a few days.” Grant commented. “I've got a few questions for you, Mr. Hayward.”

Hayward didn't say anything, but the tight line of his mouth spoke for itself. He was caught, and if he was caught, there was little point in protecting anyone else. At least, that was what Grant hoped his expression meant. The other man didn't speak, not while Grant put him with the rest of the men they'd caught and allowed a medic to tend to his gunshot wound, and not while they'd loaded him and four others into the van to be taken back to the station. Any one of those men might be the one that Leo had seen leaving 113 Terrace Boulevard. Only the interrogation would tell.

It was going to be a long night. The men that they had caught would be split up for questioning, and it could be a while before the team got anything of substance from them, especially if none of them were the mastermind behind the murder of Sergeant Sitwell and the attack on councilman Coulson.

Grant was in the locker room, hanging up his tactical gear, when he gave in to the nagging suggestion that had been with him since the vans had left the storage building, captives safely locked up for transport. It had been a long day, and it seemed impossible that it had only been that morning when he and Leo had woken up side by side in his bed.

Leo had screwed up, that much was for damn sure. He hadn't told the whole story, and the investigation had gone the long way round because of it. The longer Grant had to think about it, though, the more ashamed he became of his cold and public reaction, and the more he realized that, despite Leo's mistake, Grant didn't want him to stay gone from his life. He hadn't been speaking empty words that morning when they had talked everything over in bed, and though the revelations that they day had brought had changed things, they hadn't changed them enough that Grant could say, with certainty, that he didn't want anything to do with Leo anymore. Part of him wished that he could be that cold and unattached.

But, most of him knew that Daisy was right. He didn't have many friends, and Leo was the first person in a very, very long time, who had been able to get through to him.

As much as finding out the truth had hurt, Grant knew he was going to hurt more in the long run if he didn't admit to himself – and Leo – that he wasn't a fan of entirely cutting Leo out of his life.

With a sigh, Grant looked around the locker room, making sure he was alone before he pulled out his phone. It had been empty for a few minutes now, and there was little chance that anyone was going to interrupt what he was doing. Sitting down on the bench in the center of the room, Grant scrolled down his contact list, until he hit the 'F's, and tapped the name he wanted, putting the phone to his ear.

It rang once. Twice. Three times. Grant hadn't expected Leo to pick up. Not after the goodbye he'd given him, and not with how Grant suspected Leo was feeling. Daisy was right. Leo hadn't once tried to excuse himself or remove himself from what had happened. He admitted his part in it, and was doing a good job of beating himself up, even if he had been played. Grant could only imagine what he was feeling, right now, on top of the treatment that Grant had given him, when all he'd been trying to do was apologise.

The phone rang a fourth time, and Grant was beginning to think that Leo was just going to let it ring itself into oblivion. Just when he was wondering if he should hang up, there was a click, and a second of dead air before...

_'Hello. You've reached Leo Fitz. Unfortunately, for reasons beyond my control, I can't come to the phone right now. However, if you leave a detailed message and your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks._ '

His voicemail.

Of course Leo had let it ring through to voicemail. Grant had been enough of a dick that, if he'd seen the call coming through, he probably would have expected that Grant was calling to give him an even bigger piece of his mind. If Grant had to make due with Leo's voicemail though, he would. He waited a second for the deep of the machine giving him license to record, and then took a breath, hoping he could say all that he needed to say.

“Hi. It's Grant. Listen, I wanted to apologize for being such a prick earlier. I was angry, and I think it's safe to say that I had a right to be. You didn't _lie_ , not exactly, but you didn't tell me the truth either, and after last night, I would have expected that from you. I know we don't know each other – Fuck, I'm rambling. The point is this: Yeah, I'm pissed, but I should have tried to see it from where you were. You were used, and I didn't even try to acknowledge that, when all you tried to do was say sorry. I know you're sorry, Leo, and maybe when this is over, we can get a coffee or something, try and pick up a few steps before where we left off? You're a good guy, and I meant what I said this morning. Yes, even after what happened later on. Oh, and I just wanted to let you know, we caught Hayward and--”

There was a harsh beep in his ear, and Grant pulled the phone away. He didn't need to hear the tinny voice telling him that he had run out of time, but his message was recorded. He'd been trying to fit the bit in about Hayward before his time was up, and he hoped that what he had said was enough.

Picking himself up from the bench, Grant ended the call, shutting off the recording in the middle of its speech, and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He would have to hope that his message got things across. Right now, he had criminals to question.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Leo had screwed up.

He wasn't pretending that he hadn't. It was clear to him, and Jemma both. Jemma hadn't been thrilled, when she'd taken his call on her lunch break and all he'd said was that he would explain when she got home from work, and not to worry. That was almost an impossible feat for her, but, somehow, he hoped that she would manage it. At her apartment, alone, Leo was doing enough worrying, or, at least, thinking, for the two of them.

He had his reasons for keeping the information to himself that he had, and he had gone over them with Kara and Bobbi, and then with himself, on the ride over here. He had his reasons, and they were valid, yes, but in hindsight, Leo couldn't see them as anything but stupid. There was a chance, yes, that the police would have made him suspect number one if he had admitted to his part in what had happened to Sitwell early on. That didn't mean that he wouldn't have fallen further and further down their list if he had been upfront about the man that he'd seen at the building, and everything else since that. Leo admitting what he'd done with the device was a key piece of evidence, yes, but he doubted very much that it would have changed the moves that 'Edward' and the Centipede Corporation had made.

Edward.

Leo remembered seeing that name on the emails that had been sent back and forth from Jasper Sitwell's private address, and he remembered that shiver that it had caused when he'd seen it. 'Edward', the same name that had been used by his contact at Centipede Corporation. Edward Hyde, to be precise. That was a name that the police would have now, but they would think the same as Leo had, back when he'd seen it in connection to Sitwell's emails. That was too plain of a name. It was too common. There was no chance that Leo could have connected that Edward to this one, not off the bat.

But he should have.

That was what he had been beating himself up about for hours now. He should have come clean, he should have said something. He'd had multiple chances to, just like Grant had said, but he'd kept his mouth shut, because he was too much of a coward to admit that he knew more about the whole thing than he was letting on.

A cop had been killed.

A city councilman was in hospital after a similar attack.

Leo was too scared to admit that their blood was on his hands by proxy, and that had been where he'd made his first mistake.

Leo liked investigative journalism, because at the end of the day, the people who 'hurt' most from his stories only hurt because of situations that they themselves had created. They had committed the actions that led to Leo writing stories on them that could turn the public opinion against them, or launch investigations into their activities. It was never a case of Leo's work harming someone in such a way that they ended up physically injured, or worse, dead.

This time, though, that had happened.

The weight of that was heavy. It was so much that when Jemma had gotten home and sat down across from him on the couch, the dam had broken. It hadn't stood a chance. The tears that had threatened at the station he had managed to rein in, and during his time alone at the apartment, he'd been too caught up in trying to beat himself up that he hadn't taken the time to let the emotional hurricane building inside him loose. With Jemma pulling him into a tight hug, it was much harder to keep a leash on that hurricane.

He told her everything.

The emails, the contract, the project. Jemma had known that he was working on something. There was no way that she couldn't, considering he had taken a few nights a week to go to a local workshop and use their machinery to shape and grind the pieces that made up the device. She simply hadn't known the precise nature of what it was. When she said that she understood why he hadn't told her – it was supposedly a government contract, and he should keep it to himself until it was confirmed that he'd created the design they were choosing – Leo broke into a fresh round of tears, to match her own.

They were a mess, she said, with a laugh, but had urged him to continue his story.

And he had. He'd started with the contract, and he ended with the conversation – or confrontation – that he'd had with Grant, after his confession. He didn't leave anything out in between, and while he didn't go into detail, he didn't omit the fact that he and Grant had slept together the night before, which had only made everything worse. He'd betrayed Grant's trust, after Grant had made a point of giving it to him, and he'd hindered an investigation, in which something he'd designed had been modified to kill someone.

“I'm so stupid. This guy, Edward... He asked me to put in the write-ups I sent along, how the device could be manufactured wrong so that it didn't behave properly. And I just went along with it and _told_ him.”

“Leo...” Jemma reached over, touching his knee gently. The two of them were sitting close together on her couch, just about touching from shoulder to hip. “You know as well as I do that they would have asked you that if it was a legitimate government contract. They would need to know what things to make sure _not_ to do, or _not_ to miss, when manufacturing more. You putting that in the write-up would have been used to decide where they went with the design. If there were too many variables, your design wouldn't have been as likely to be chosen as a design with less. You _know_ that.”

Leo sniffed, and accepted the tissue box Jemma passed him with a nod of thanks. “I know that.”

That didn't stop him from beating himself up, though, and he told her that. They talked, well into the night, about everything, not even pausing when they got up to make dinner. They discussed what had happened over their simple spaghetti dinner, and continued while they did the dishes. They only stopped when Jemma regretfully told Leo that she needed to go to bed because she worked the next day. She'd offered for Leo to take the other half of the bed, but he declined, saying he was going to be a nightmare to sleep next to, as he was likely to toss and turn all night.

She'd left him with a spare pillow and blanket, a tight hug, and a whispered reassurance that things would work out, and Leo had laid down on the couch to attempt a fitful sleep. It had gone about as well as he'd expected, and by the time Jemma woke up in the morning, Leo was sure he'd only gotten two or three hours of sleep, himself.

He had a plan, though, and that was the important part.

That, and not sharing that plan with Jemma. It was likely that she would try and dissuade him. While that was probably a good thing, Leo didn't want to be dissuaded. He had made mistakes, more than he cared to admit, and if he could have a hand in correcting them in any way, he would.

His phone was showing a missed call from Grant, and a voicemail message waiting, but Leo, with great strength of will, ignored it. He wasn't going to listen to that, not yet. Especially not if the message Grant had left was more of the same things he'd said yesterday when they had parted ways. Leo didn't want to listen to that if it was going to discourage him. He wanted to be able to go to Grant with information that would help the investigation, information that might help make up for lost time spent following a footpath to their answers, rather than a highway.

It was a shoddy plan, but it was the best one he had, and the best he could do with limited resources. Leo could access his email from Jemma's home computer, and he did, double-checking the address that he had been told to send the device to when it was finished. Fresno, California, was only a few states away, and Leo had some suspicions about that address, the Afterlife Plant, and the office building where he had found Sitwell's body. They were all locations where crucial parts of the puzzle had come together, and they were all in limbo, either on the market to be leased or awaiting renovation to become leased or, in the case of the address he'd retrieved, newly leased within the last 24 months.

Pulling up the details of all three in different tabs, Leo flipped between them, reading information about each building, the area it was located in, and what companies had leased them in the past, and currently owned them.

As he'd suspected, he found a similarity, after only an hour of research.

The name Edison Po was referenced in the history – either current or past – of every building that Leo knew to be involved in this investigation. That couldn't be a coincidence, and it seemed like even less of one when Leo researched in, and one of the things he found, digging back in the search results, was one of the dummy sites he'd visited many times over the weeks he was doing his project.

The header read Centipede Corporation, and at the very bottom, in the copyright disclaimer, Leo read the name Edison Po.

That wasn't the only thing he'd found, however.

It appeared that the Centipede Corporation was absolutely something that Edison Po was tied to. It also appeared that the three properties that Leo knew of weren't the only ones that had his name on them. There were two others. A storage building, currently listed as under renovation to acquire a lease. The other was, surprisingly, a lot closer than Leo expected to find it. It was, in fact, only a fifteen minute cab ride away, close to the station that Leo had been thinking of as a home base for the last few days. This building was marketed as a store front, and that made it stand out from the others. It stood out even more when Leo pulled it up on Google Maps, and the street view proved it to be a step apart from Terrace Boulevard, Afterlife Plant, the other storage building, and the Fresno office. It looked to be a remnant of the 1960s, a brick and glass window facade with a blue, red and white awning over top, and windows above that clearly belonged to an above shop apartment. The other properties, even the Plant, had had a new century feeling to them. This one, not so much, and that made it stick out like a sore thumb.

If there was somewhere that Edward Hyde – who Leo suspected to be Edison Po – was hiding, this would be the place.

All Leo had to do was a little bit of in person research.

Reaching over to the edge of Jemma's desk, he lifted his phone from where it had been charging. Grant's message was still waiting, but Leo chose to ignore it, for now, and focused instead on the percentage indicator in the upper right hand corner.

100% charged.

It was getting to be late in the afternoon, but that didn't matter. Leo had done stakeouts to catch people at various locations before. This would be a piece of cake, right up his alley.

And if he could get a photo of Edward Hyde, alias Edison Po, he would be bringing the police information that would be that much more useful to them, at the end of the day.

 

 

 

Leo had arrived at the storefront shortly after 5 in the afternoon, and he'd taken up his position at a cafe across the street to wait. Like the building that Leo was watching, this cafe was a remnant of decades past, but unlike the storefront, it had survived the years in much better condition. Leo had enjoyed a light dinner there, texting Jemma that he was just 'out', clearing his head, and he would be back later. She had messaged him back to be careful, but hadn't pressed for any more details. It was an act that Leo appreciated. Jemma was digging, and while he wasn't being entirely honest with her – a pattern he wasn't fond of seeing in himself – he was glad that she accepted that he needed this time to himself.

The issue was that time was passing, and Leo wasn't getting very far. He'd brought a notebook along to write in while he waited, giving himself a cover while he watched the storefront, but there was only so many hours that he could spend sitting there, watching the building, before the cafe owners got somewhat annoyed with him. He had ordered two teas since he'd finished his first, and made sure he was still a paying customer, but he wasn't a regular, and he had been sitting outside at one of their tables for far too long. He risked losing the appearance of being a casual writer, particularly when he was sure they had noticed the way he was watching the building across the street.

By the time the clock on his phone read 8:23 PM, Leo was packing up his things. He would make a show of leaving, of course. Just to make sure that the cafe owners didn't get uppity about him lingering around. He had done a casual scope of the street, though, while he had been sitting here, and he'd worked out an easy way to get himself into a better position to observe the store in the darkness. Leo could head down the street a ways, and cross, heading up that cross street until he could come down the street that crossed behind the store he was watching.

Leo had spent maybe too long peering at the space between that building and the ones nearest it, and had worked out that there was nothing but a small parking lot to the rear of it. The northern side of the building was sided by a wooden fence, and a row of shrubs that had grown well past the point of what could be considered decent overgrowth. He would be able to take refuge there, and see anyone approaching the building from up the road, on both sides. Should Edward approach from down the road, he wouldn't be in luck, but hopefully that wouldn't happen.

Leo just needed to get into position.

Following his plan, he took his time, wandering aimlessly until he was sure that no one was walking or driving on the street that the building backed up onto. Then he walked quietly into the alley between it and the fence, finding a spot that was far enough back from the road that he couldn't be seen, but close enough that he could see anyone on the sidewalk.

Hunkering down, he prepared to wait, as long as he could before his body gave out. After the first hour, he was getting bored. After another twenty minutes, the voicemail notification on his phone seemed like it was taunting him.

After another seventeen minutes, Leo couldn't hope to ignore it any longer, and with a sigh, he tapped the button. It called through to his voicemail, and he didn't even let the automated voice finish before he was tapping in his password, and holding the phone to his ear to listen.

' _Hi. It's Grant. Listen, I wanted to apologize for being such a prick earlier._ ' That wasn't what Leo had expected, truth be told, and it gave him a little bit of hope. He was guilty over what his device had been used for, and there was no denying that. The issue was that he also couldn't deny that Grant's harsh demeanour and unwillingness to look at him or hear him out had hurt. It was still hurting him. Hearing Grant start this message, now almost a day old, with admitting that he'd been a prick, was encouraging for Leo.

 _'I was angry, and I think it's safe to say that I had a right to be. You didn't_ lie _, not exactly, but you didn't tell me the truth either, and after last night, I would have expected that from you. I know we don't know each other – Fuck, I'm rambling.'_ That was much more endearing that Leo had been prepared for, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling. Yes, Grant was angry, and he was right. He had a right to be. Leo wasn't about to argue against that.

While Grant continued, there was a shuffling noise to Leo's left, from the back of the building, and he turned, leaning forward slightly and listening. It didn't come again, not even while Leo sat still in the shadows. More than likely, it had been a squirrel running past, or garbage being blown across the pavement by the slight breeze that Leo could see rustling the trees across the road. Nothing to worry about.

' _...I meant what I said this morning. Yes, even after what happened later on. Oh, and I just wanted to let you know, we caught Hayward and--'_

There was a beep, and then the automated voice came back, emotionless as it informed Leo that it was the end of the message, and he was back at the main menu. To erase the message, he could press 7. To keep it, he could press 1.

Despite everything, Leo was willing to meet for that coffee, if that was what Grant wanted. Grant had said that he still meant what he'd told Leo the morning before. That had to mean that there was some kind of hope, didn't it? Even if he was in the middle of a stakeout, and he couldn't afford to spend time lingering over what that might mean for their future, finally listening to Grant's message had taken away some of the hurt that Leo was feeling. For that, it was absolutely worth pressing 1. Then he opened a new text message, and tapped out his reply.

 

> _Can't call right now, as I'm looking into something,_   
>  _but I listened to your message. Would like to talk_   
>  _sometime, if possible. I'm sorry, again. Hope the_   
>  _investigation is going well._

 

Leo tucked his phone away again, feeling better than he had a few minutes before. There was a smile on his face, and his eyes were back on the street, waiting for Edward Hyde to make an appearance. Leo would be able to go to Grant, not only armed with the knowledge of where their likely murderer was, but with his image.

“You've got moxie. That's impressive. Get up.”

Leo froze. He hadn't expected the quiet voice behind him, but he had expected, even less, the feeling of a cold point of steel pressing into the side of his neck, just over the collar of his jacket. If he turned his head to see the person that had crept up on him, he ran the risk of cutting himself on that point. There was no choice but for him to get up.

It was hard to see the figure who was holding him at knifepoint in the light, but the silhouette reminded him strongly of something he hadn't seen that long ago.

The artist's sketch that had been done off of Callie Hannigan's description of the man in the subway. The words 'messy professor' absolutely fit this man, that thought occurred to Leo as a big hand wrapped around his upper arm, and jerked him forward, towards the street.

“You've been a thorn in my side much longer than I was anticipating, Mr. Fitz, and now you're hiding in the shrubs and trying to get _my_ story?”

“You're the one that killed Sitwell.” Leo said, quietly. He didn't have many options but to walk in the direction he was being forced. As they moved towards the corner of the building, he looked back, getting a better look at the man. It was uncanny how close the sketch had been. He was grinning, right now, and he looked somehow unhinged because of it, but it was very close. Upper middle aged, brown hair that was beginning to show some grey, stockier build. He had the look of someone's straight-laced father who taught down at the community college, but Leo knew better than to let that fool him. This was the man who had most likely killed Sitwell, and who had made an attempt on Coulson.

And that same man was now ushering him inside the storefront, locking the door behind them.

“One and the same.” The man answered, his tone almost gleeful. “Calvin Johnson. Pleased to _finally_ make your acquaintance in person, Leopold. You've done some good work for me, and I was sort of hoping that with that done, you would just, you know, lay down and die, or at least lay down and take the blame, but...” He opened a door at the back of the main section of the store, revealing a staircase that went up into darkness. Not that much of what Leo was seeing right now _wasn't_ dark. It was nearly impossible to make out much in the light that came through the paper over the shop windows. It was even harder as he was led up those stairs, the knife back against his throat. “You just _didn't_ do that, did you? You decided to _lie_ to the police, and _help_ them, and what good did that do me?”

“You tried to kill Phil Coulson.”

Leo had expected more taunting, sing-song words from Calvin. That seemed to be the man's style, and the longer Leo could keep him talking, the safer he would be. If he could keep Calvin talking long enough, maybe he could work a way out of this that didn't involve the knife the other man was wielding coming across his throat.

Calvin didn't continue, though, at Leo's mention of what he'd tried to do to Coulson. So fast that he didn't have the chance to throw his arms out and catch himself, Leo was shoved, tripping over something at knee level in the dark, and toppling over to hit the ground hard. The floor was not carpeted, and when he hit it, the air wooshed out of his lungs, leaving him struggling to pull in a gasp of dusty air.

“Phil Coulson deserved everything that was coming to him, but _you_ messed that up. You missed a pretty big issue that could cause the device to malfunction, Dr. Fitz.”

Calvin's voice wasn't as close as it had been, and while Leo couldn't see him, he had to take the chance. Doing his best to keep quiet, as hard as that was when he was battling to breathe, Leo pulled himself away from whatever he'd fallen over, and tried to navigate his way back towards the stairs on his hands and knees, reaching out carefully to feel the way in front of him. He wouldn't do himself any favours to fall down the stairs when he reached them.

He'd only gone a few feet when the lights came on, and Leo saw the stairs in front of him, just a little to the right. Calvin was across the room at a lamp that, in Leo's opinion, was badly placed, staring right at him. For a second, neither of them moved. Then, in the same instant, Calvin charged across the room as Leo picked himself up and made for the stairs.

It was too little, too late. Calvin was bigger than him, and made it before he'd taken two steps, grabbing him around the throat and hauling him back, forcing Leo to backpedal until his head and back hit the opposite wall. The other man's fingers squeezed around his throat, and pushed, not back, but down, forcing Leo to his knees before Calvin let go.

Leo coughed, pulling in air hard, again. His lungs were panicking, having had the air knocked out of them only a minute before. It took another full minute before Leo was able to even attempt normal breathing, but that didn't seem to stop Calvin.

“You recognize my last name, don't you? Johnson? Come on, I know you've met her. I went out for dinner with her last week, after you managed to get away from Hayward.”

Johnson.

Daisy. Daisy Johnson.

The pieces started to fall into place in Leo's head. The discussion Daisy had been having with Trip, the night that Leo had offered himself up as a consultant. The story that Daisy had told him while he'd sat at Grant's desk and tried to forget what had just happened inside his own apartment. Daisy's father, who had abandoned her after her mother's death, and disappeared for a long chunk of her life. The man who had suddenly reappeared, and wanted to be part of her world again, the man she described as a bit creepy.

Leo could understand why. As much as Calvin – Cal, that was what Daisy had said his name was – tried to play the part of a man who's found his way, finally, he had been the same man who had killed a man using a subsonic weapon, and had attempted to kill another. This man was not, in any way, of stable mind.

And Leo needed to understand that, going forward, or he was going to end up the same way Sitwell had.

“Daisy's father.”

“Hah! Yes!” Cal stood up, beaming, his hands on his hips. “See, that's it. _I'm_ her father. She's my daughter, and I've been gone for a long time... A long, long... They killed my wife, you know. Those idiots. Hit her head on, she never stood a chance. 'Course I needed time away. Of course I did.”

Leo didn't dare move. It was going to be harder to get away, now, but he needed to keep Cal talking so that he could think. Not that such a thing seemed like it would be hard. After so long, and now having a captive – quite literally – audience, Cal seemed more than happy to share.

“I had to go away. A man's not the same after seeing what happened to his wife. I had to get help, and then I had to go further away. I couldn't come back _here_. This was where she _died_. I knew Daisy needed me, but I was her father. She would know that I was coming home eventually, and Phil. Oh, Phil.” Cal laughed, and the sound was cold and harsh. “He was going to _take care of her_. He was gonna make sure she was taken care of so she'd be just fine when I got back. Then I come back, and what do I find?”

Cal dropped to a crouch in front of Leo, and he instinctively pressed back against the wall. The willpower that it must have taken Cal to keep this manic rage locked up whenever he was around Daisy and Phil had to be impressive. Daisy had mentioned that they had gone to dinner before, and he wondered if the dinner Cal had been looking to arrange before the attack on Coulson had happened.

“This man, my supposed _friend_ , raised my little girl as his own daughter. She calls _him_ dad. Oh, she kept my last name, but you know this wedding of hers? You know who she wants to walk her down the aisle? Him. Phil Coulson. The man who was her next door neighbour. Not her father. He's _not_ her father!” Cal shook his head, breathing hard. “He stole her from me. Those idiots took my wife, and then my friend stole my daughter. I came back, and I had _nothing_. You understand how that might upset a man, Mr. Fitz?”

Leo didn't answer, unsure if he was supposed to. Anything he said was a dangerous gamble. Cal was working himself up, and Leo had to play things safe. It was hard to figure out how to escape when he was trying to carefully monitor the mood of the man ranting only a few inches from his face.

Clearly, no answer was not the right answer. Cal went still after a few silent seconds, and then his hand came down, pounding against the wall beside Leo's head, making him jump.

“I asked you a question!”

“Yeah! Yes, I see – I get how – Yes.” Leo stuttered out, his heart hammering in his chest. Cal watched him, the seconds ticking by, and then slowly withdrew his hand, nodding, apparently appeased with the answer.

“That's right. I couldn't stand for it, but I couldn't just get rid of him. He's a city official, and everyone would point fingers at me. I had to be smart about it, and that's where you came in, and Sergeant Sitwell, and all the others I recruited. Phil may be a respected councilman, but he's been responsible for a few people being passed over for recognition. I told Jasper, that's what we were going to do to him. Make sure he looked humiliated, like Jasper did when Phil cut him out of a speech about exemplary police service.”

That was the connection between Sitwell and Coulson and Cal. Sitwell had been snubbed by Coulson, and had taken it personally. Leo remembered that speech. It had only been a few months before, at the annual Police Gala. Councilman Coulson had been one of the speakers, and had made reference to many of the heroic deeds that had been performed by various members of the police force that year. Leo knew that some of them had been promoted, shortly after that.

Was it possible that Sitwell had held a grudge against Coulson for not mentioning him? Did he directly relate that to what had happened with others who Coulson _had_ mentioned?

“Jasper helped me, he got me information about Coulson from his contacts, and I made contacts who told me about people who could help with a project I was looking at. You were the best option. You're brilliant, wasting your talents, and it's obvious you know it. I could use that, and you made me exactly what I needed.

“I went through the motions. I met Daisy's fiance. He's a nice boy, I think I like him. I hope he'll be all right with me walking her down the aisle. I went to dinner at their house. I met Melinda, and I told them all these stories about what I'd been doing. My journey of self discovery.” Cal smiled, like they were sharing an inside joke, and in the interest of keeping him from lashing out again, Leo nodded. “And that whole time, I had you making me something that would make all the pain I was going through, seeing _my_ daughter call another man _dad_ worth it.

“Jasper got cold feet when he found out. Didn't think that killing Phil was necessary, but I had to get him out of the picture. Jasper, though? Not having any of it. You'd given me the prototype by then. You sent it to a friend of mine. He actually owns this building, he's been giving me access to his properties so I can set up my life here.” Cal dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “I haven't told him _everything_ yet.”

This was twisted, and Leo was horrified. He had been contracted specifically to build something that Cal could use to murder Coulson, because he had raised his daughter when Cal had been unable to. It was something that Leo could barely wrap his head around, and wasn't sure if he wanted to begin to try.

“He sent it to me, and I had some of the boys I recruited rebuild it. Without the pins. Jasper was making a fuss, and I needed a guinea pig. But, I also needed to make sure that _you_ were out of the way. It was nothing personal, you understand.” Cal spread his hands in a shrug. “I needed to make sure you wouldn't be credible if you went to the police, later, with all kinds of talk about the weapon matching something you'd designed, especially if they ended up talking about it on TV. You know how the police do things. Lots of talk, little action.”

That hadn't been Leo's experience, but he didn't say that. It didn't seem wise.

“I thought I would have you find him. It implicated you, and they would assume you did it. I didn't account for you having alibis. And then you had to make it _harder_ by playing detective. You made things very hard for me, Mr. Fitz, but you weren't talking about the weapon, so I knew it was safe for me to go forward. You were too scared, I bet. Even if you managed to get away from Hayward. You might have still been alive, but you weren't talking about the weapon. That was helping me, so I worked fast. I got Daisy to agree to dinner, so we could all be out. I would know where Coulson was, and one of my guys could take the Whistler to his office and plant it. That's what I named your invention, by the way. Whistler. Have you ever been? It's in British Columbia. Beautiful place. Some kind of mountain paradise. It seemed like a good name, because of what it does, and the fact that it was going to help me secure _my_ paradise.

“Thing is, that one malfunctioned, and then Phil was in hospital, and under guard, and I couldn't get to him. I couldn't get to him, and you,” he jabbed his finger into Leo's chest, hard enough that Leo winced. “You made it harder, because you were helping that detective, and you were getting closer. I wasn't going to let them catch me, not that fast. No sirree.”

Calvin stood up again, and began pacing, his hands moving while he spoke. It was pontificating, telling the story in a tone that made Leo wonder how long he'd wanted to let this out. Cal thought himself some kind of genius, a mastermind of sorts, and, in a way, he was. That greatness clearly deserved to be shared, and Cal wasn't holding back now that he had someone to tell his story to. The fact that he _was_ telling Leo his story, however, did not bode well.

If Leo knew everything, he could take it back to Grant.

And Leo could not be allowed to do that, that much was obvious.

Cal intended to kill him, but, first, he would tell his story to one person. The one person who he could tell it to.

Leo's breathing was picking up again as those realizations dawned on him, but Cal didn't seem to notice, too caught up in what he was saying to chastise Leo for daring to hyperventilate during his monologue.

“Seth Dormer? He's one of mine. Sort of. I'm blackmailing him, which makes things a little easier. I forced him to make sure he opened up the prototype you all got at Afterlife, and found your fingerprints inside, whatever it took. And he did, and he took it to the female detective, and she did exactly what I wanted. She's not even one of mine, but she made sure you were thrown out. From what I hear, the detective you made friends with made a real show on the way out.

“I had what I wanted. You were out of the picture, and I could start planning my next move. But you're not out of the picture, are you? You're trying _so hard_ to win your way back into their good graces. Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Fitz, but I can't have that.”

Leo knew what was coming next, and he moved, quick, pushing himself away from the wall and barreling into Cal, toppling them both to the floor. He was on top, and had been ready for it, so he was up and moving faster, sprinting for the stairs. He hadn't seen a gun, all Cal seemed to have was the knife. Leo just needed to get out of this building and into the street, and he could get to Grant, he could get to _someone_ , and send them in the direction they needed to go.

Cal didn't stay down for long, though, and Leo had only taken a few running steps before something – Cal's fist – hit him in the side of the head, sending him veering to the side, crashing against the covered furniture that he'd tripped over before. Vaguely, he heard something crash, but he couldn't make out what it was, because Cal was bearing down on him, his hands going around Leo's neck and squeezing, tight, this time with no hope of releasing.

“You – You deserved the why. You don't deserve anything else. You came sniffing around. If you hadn't...”

Leo's vision was spotting at the edges, but he didn't stop fighting, twisting and bucking under Cal's weight, pulling in vain at his wrists. He was the bigger, heavier man, here. Leo didn't stand much of a chance, especially not with his legs pinned under Cal's.

“You're an idiot, Leo. A stupid, naive idiot. Your death – your death will mean nothing, except that you're out of my way.”

The spots were getting bigger, threatening to pull Leo down into the dark. It was getting harder to fight back. His head was throbbing, his lungs were screaming, and his eyes were watering. His fingers pulled ineffectively at the arms holding him down, and he couldn't find the energy to try and push anymore.

This was where he was going to die, and no one would know to look for him here. No one would know to suspect Calvin Johnson. They would go about their investigation, and Cal would have more than enough time to make another attempt on Phil Coulson before they caught up.

The pressure stopped, suddenly, all over, and Leo's traumatized lungs sucked in a huge breath, greedy in their starvation, the rush of it drowning out the sound of Cal's screaming voice.

And then the world went black.

 


	15. Chapter 15

The first thought that Leo thought when he opened his eyes is that, if he was dead, this was a really lackluster place to spend his afterlife.

The world came into focus, slowly, the tiles on the ceiling leading to neutral, tan painted walls. There was a long window along the wall to his right, but the curtains across it – deep blue in colour – were drawn, so he couldn't tell if the sun was out or not. The bed he was laying in was comfortable enough, and propped up slightly, and tucked up just above his waist were crisp white sheets that felt smooth when he rubbed his fingers over them.

A hospital. He was in a hospital.

That would definitely be a lackluster place to spend the afterlife, but Leo suspected that wasn't what the case was, here. That was due to the fact that, on the right side of the bed, the side where the railing was pushed down, someone was sitting, the chair dragged close to the edge of the mattress, leaned forward with their head resting on crossed arms.

Grant.

His hair was messy, and he was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that looked like it had been stretched out over the years. Despite the fact that his eyes were closed, he didn't look like he'd been getting much sleep.

If the afterlife was going to provide him with Grant, Leo suspected it would at least make sure that he didn't look like he'd been sitting in that chair for at least the last day.

“Hey.” Leo tried, and frowned at the sound of his own voice. It was hoarse, and raspy, and utterly unimpressive. There was a small table, on wheels, to the side of his bed, and on it sat a paper cup and a sealed bottle of water, but he had no chance of reaching it himself. It was too far away to touch without leaning far over, and Leo didn't want to risk that. Grant, however, was very close and, if Leo was honest, Grant was the most pressing thing in the room.

One of his hands was laying by Leo's, and that made it easy for the journalist to reach forward, tapping him gently, but with increasing force each time. It only took a half dozen before Grant was blinking, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at what that sensation was.

Then his eyes landed on Leo and he sat upright.

“You're awake. Thank fuck, you're – oh, here, you need...”

He reached over to the small table, like he was reading Leo's mind, and uncapped the bottle, pouring a generous amount of water into the cup before he moved forward. He brought it all the way up to Leo's lips before he noticed the way the other was frowning and holding his hand out. He might be in a hospital bed, but he could bloody well water himself. Instead of arguing with that expression, Grant handed over the cup, and settled back in his seat, pulling it right up to the edge of the bed to wait. When a minute had passed, and Leo was still sipping the water carefully, Grant seemed to consider the situation normal enough that he could speak.

“Jemma's been here, but she had to go home, to get ready for work. She asked me to let her know when you were awake.”

“How – “

“ – Only about 30 hours. You've woken up a few times, but you weren't really _awake_ , and you'd fall back asleep pretty fast. The doctors said that your body was recovering from what happened... The... What he did to you.”

Leo nodded, remembering Cal's fingers around his neck. It wasn't hard to see where Grant's gaze was lingering.

“Am I bruised?”

His voice wasn't doing much better, yet, but it was passable. It didn't hurt to talk as much as Leo had expected that it would, and he wondered what kind of painkillers they had him on for that. Everything he'd read had always said that the aftermath of being strangled was painful. He didn't look forward to the drugs wearing off. Not even a little.

“A bit.” Grant said, quietly, looking from Leo's neck, to his face. “A lot. Does it hurt?”

“Not right now.” Leo said. “Painkillers?” He lifted his arm, indicating the IV that was taped to his hand, and attached to the floating bag hanging from a wheeled stand on the left side of the bed. Grant smiled, and Leo, despite his drowsiness, and the fact that he'd woken up in a hospital, couldn't ignore the spike of affection.

“Yeah. Something good. It's been part of what's been making you so tired, but you're... Well, you're the most awake you've been, right now. You go back to sleep if you need to.”

Leo nodded, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. Not yet. There were too many questions running through his mind to let this be the end of this session of conversation. It was hard to pick just one, and he went so quiet for a while that Grant must have assumed he was readying to go back to sleep.

“Close your eyes. I'll be here when you wake up.”

Leo shot him a look. “No. _You_ sleep. Have you been awake this whole time?”

Grant didn't answer, and that was enough of an admission.

“What happened?”

That was a question that Grant seemed willing to answer, and Leo was glad for it, even if he wanted to go up one side of Grant and down the other, scolding him for sitting by his bedside and not sleeping. He didn't need to do that. There was no reason.

Or, maybe there was, but that wasn't the question Leo knew he should open with. He needed to find out what had happened with Cal, before he could press on into anything else.

“I got your text, and I had a bad feeling. It took us longer than I wanted, but I'm guessing we figured out what you did. That all those places are connected to some Edison Po guy, in Fresno. We raided the storage building and found Hayward, so I knew it couldn't be that place you were at. I went by the shop, but it didn't look like you were around. I was going to leave, but then there was all kinds of noise coming from the place upstairs.” Grant shook his head. “It wasn't really well soundproofed, but he left the inside door open, so it all echoed in the shop, too.

I didn't stop to think. I trust my gut, it's why I'm good at this. I knew that had to be you, so I punched out the glass in the door.” He noticed how Leo's gaze dropped to his hands. “I wrapped up in my jacket first. I went upstairs and he was on you. Your lips were so dark, and he was so caught up in... I knocked him off you. Jumped him, knocked him out. Broke his nose.”

Leo grinned.

“You were breathing, but you were passed out. I called an ambulance, and then I called Jemma, and we've been here. They took Johnson into custody. Daisy can't do the questioning, but she _wants_ to. God, I've never seen her so fucking mad. Bobbi handled him. He admitted to everything. Completely deluded, out there plan. All of it. The crazy thing is he admitted it like if he did, Daisy was going to come into the room and accept him back as her father. She had to be escorted out of the observation room, because she punched the glass.”

“Did she break it?”

Grant grinned. “I hope so. I don't know, they didn't tell me that bit.”

Leo nodded. That made sense. Grant hadn't been at the station. He had been here, at Leo's bedside, after trusting his gut and arriving just in time to make sure that Leo didn't join Sitwell on the list of Cal's victims. He had every right to be angry with Leo. He could have simply made sure that Leo was safe and taken care of, here at the hospital, and then left.

He hadn't.

As much as Leo knew he should be focusing on what had happened to him, and asking questions, he couldn't prioritize that just yet. He knew that his neck was definitely bruised, and by the way his eye felt swollen, he guessed that Cal had given him at least a black eye when he'd punched him. There was a good chance that his back was bruised, too, and his side, from falling on it, and being slammed against the wall.

He was black and blue, and he suspected that he was going to find Tylenol to be one of his best friends in the whole wide world for the next little while.

That wasn't what he wanted to talk about, though, and Grant seemed to know that. They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Grant moved again, picking up Leo's hand from the bed, and putting it between his own. Grant's hands were warm, and a bit rough, but Leo liked it. He liked the way Grant rubbed one palm against Leo's, and then the other up the back of his hand. His touch was soothing, and it was building up to something that Leo was keen to hear, regardless of what it was.

“I'm sorry. For how I acted. I was angry, and I was hurt. I shouldn't have tried to hurt you in the process.” Leo shook his head. “No. Leo, listen. I acted like a prick. Yes, you screwed up by not telling me, but I was a prick. And I hope you can forgive me for that.”

Leo nodded, reaching for the water with his free hand to take another sip before he tried to speak. “Of course I do. And I'm sorry for not telling you right away. I know that I should have, and I made things harder.”

“A bit.” Grant said, but he was smiling, and that bolstered Leo's courage.

“I really hope _you_ can forgive me. And maybe we can work on that trust thing...?”

It seemed a lot to ask, but Leo needed to know. Grant had left him a message, offering a coffee date, and a chance to talk things over. Leo didn't want to let that chance slip away, not even while he was barely holding on to consciousness, laying in a hospital bed in the aftermath of confronting the man at the center of their investigation.

“Absolutely. _If_.” Grant transferred Leo's hand into one of his, holding up the other, one finger extended. “If, and only if, you promise me that you're not going to go running off, investigating murders on your own.”

Leo laughed, and the shock of it sent him into a coughing fit. Grant got up from his chair, and sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing his back and holding his water while it subsided. When he could breathe again, Leo took it, muttering a hoarse 'thanks', and downing the cup in one go.

“No more laughing.”

Leo snorted, and elbowed Grant in the side. “Don't. You'll make me.” Tilting his head back, he was able to look up at the detective, glad to see him smiling, even if worry was evident in his eyes. “I promise. Does that mean I get to stick around, detective?”

The words were raspy, and quiet, and that quality made them sound not nearly as teasing as Leo had intended, but they worked just the same. The worry in Grant's eyes melted away as his smile grew into a grin, and he shifted on the bed, moving so he could press a light, gentle kiss to Leo's temple.

Leo closed his eyes, sighing, smiling loosely while Grant pressed another kiss against his cheekbone, and another at the shell of his ear.

“I guess it does.” Grant said, quietly, the warm brush of his breath against his ear making Leo shiver. “I guess it does.”

 


End file.
